


and we talked by the fireplace

by jargedcoffee



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Okay I really warn you this gets extremely angsty, dear god i haven't updated in a year, like chapter 2?? angst vomit, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargedcoffee/pseuds/jargedcoffee
Summary: Connor gets hurt on a case with Gavin right before Christmas. Gavin has to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Background Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Gavin Reed, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed
Comments: 32
Kudos: 133





	1. shit sucks

**Author's Note:**

> So, one of my biggest issues as a writer is how I get too scared about progressing my fics. I keep thinking, “what if this isn’t good enough” or “what if people don’t like it” or “fudge i really just don’t like it.” There’s just too much self-consciousness going on.
> 
> So I thought: Oh Mikey, what if we make the SHITTIEST FIC WE CAN THINK OF. Yeah, just like, let it all go. After all, once you hit rock bottom, the only way is up!!! ✨✨✨✨✨✨
> 
> I warn you. This isn’t beta read, and I have absolutely no idea what’s gonna happen next. It’s basically plot and angst vomit. My only goal is to ACTUALLY FINISH A FIC FOR GOD'S SAKES.

On his 38th birthday, Gavin’s lying on his bed. He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep, but he fails miserably, because he keeps thinking about the android in stasis beside him.

Connor.

On nights like this one, Gavin often wonders how his 36-year old self would react if he’d gone back in time and told himself, “Hey, you know that dipshit detective android you hate so much? You’re gonna end up together.”

He thinks past Gavin would react somewhere along the lines of assaulting him first, while shouting things like “What the fuck?”, “Who are you?”, and “Why do you look like me?” Once they get that sorted out and they’ve stopped trying to kill each other, past Gavin would process what he was told and say something like, “Tin can and I are gonna what?!”

He wouldn’t blame himself. It used to be entirely unthinkable. He and Connor? Not in a million years. Not if he were offered to be DPD captain in exchange. Not if he were offered a big shot position at the FBI. Never.

But when he looks at the calm blue of Connor’s LED, the out of place tuft of hair on his head that Gavin always wants to fix, and the slight smile on his lips, he thinks, _36-year old me was such an asshole._

Connor’s eyes open slowly, with his LED shining a muted yellow against the dark of Gavin’s bedroom. Their gazes meet. Connor asks, in the same innocent tone Gavin once hated so much, “Detective, what are you thinking about?”

Gavin fights the smile forming on his lips, because this shit is just too sappy for him, so he says, “Wanna know what it is? I’m thinking about why my dipshit boyfriend still calls me ‘detective’ after 2 years.”

Connor smiles. He inches himself closer to Gavin to snuggle up with him, setting his head down over Gavin’s shoulder. “Perhaps once you stop calling me ‘tin can’ and ‘dipshit boyfriend’, I may consider calling you ‘Gavin’.” Gavin feels the android’s breath on his neck. It’s warm, almost human. He honestly can’t tell the difference.

“Not in a million years, prick.”

As Gavin closes his eyes, feeling the sleep washing over him, Connor gives him a soft kiss on his neck.

“Then I suppose we’ll stick with ‘detective’.”

***

_Fowler sealed Gavin’s fate the very first time he partnered him with Connor on a case, because Hank had taken a break._

_The case started with a lot of shouting, swearing, and a few missed punches - all mostly from Gavin. Or maybe it was all from him, but who’s keeping score?_

_Even then, they solved it in record time. Gavin will never forget the shock on Fowler’s face when they came back to him with a solved case. “It was mostly me,” Gavin had told the captain._

_“Our contributions were evenly split in this particular case,” Connor replied. “I have documented evidence that we worked equally as partners.”_

_Gavin was not happy with that response, but Fowler definitely was. He gave them a half-smile, which, by precinct law, meant that he felt obscenely happy. So, he assigned them a second case. Then a third case. And a fourth one._

_For a while, Gavin wondered when he’d stop getting paired up with Connor. He didn’t like to admit it, but the android kept growing on him with every case. Yes, he was a talented detective. Yes, he annoyed Gavin to death with his constant_ good mornings _,_ how are you todays _, and_ that much caffeine is unhealthy, detective _, regardless of how shitty Gavin was to him the day before. Connor always took the high road. He stayed consistent about it, unlike most humans, and he eventually earned Gavin’s respect._

_Unfortunately, Gavin also knew that, inside his own fucked up mind, his respect combined with annoyance would eventually turn into something else. Soon, Gavin couldn’t stop noticing the slight breathiness to Connor’s voice, how sincere his smile was, the out of place tuft of hair on his head that he desperately wants to reach out and fix, and the way his LED would spin yellow when talking to him. Like he was processing something. Or figuring something out. Even when all they were talking about was the weather._

_It wasn’t long before their partnership turned into something more._

***

It’s almost Christmas on their tenth case together. For this case, Gavin’s the one who figures out which of the suspects is the perpetrator. He bets his ass he’s proud of it, so while they’re in his car and he’s driving them to the perp’s house for the arrest, he turns to Connor and says, “I win this round. Score’s five on five.”

Connor doesn’t pause even for a second. “It’s a score for both of us. We’re partners, detective.”

Gavin has named his partner as the “most boring competitor”. He’s always talking about “optimal unit cohesion”, “smooth working relationships”, or whatever canned response Gavin assumes Cyberlife programmed into him.

Gavin grunts. Partly because Connor’s no fun, and partly because he still gets all flustered when Connor says they’re partners. It’s all thanks to their shitty “I love you” confessions last Christmas, and their shitty movie dates, and maybe Tina, who never misses an opportunity to pimp Gavin out to whoever’s interested. He has no idea how much Tina had a hand in getting them together.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shifter, Gavin makes a turn. Connor’s looking out the car window, and he says, “Detective, I have been thinking about our upcoming skiing trip.”

The winter has covered the city in full force, so Gavin’s stare stays straight on the road, following the icy path and making sure he’s driving carefully. “Okay, first thing - it’s been two years, so stop calling me detective. Second thing: I think I hyped that up way too much.”

Connor turns to look at him so fast it looked like he’d snap his neck - if he were human. “Definitely not! I’m quite excited. I-”

“Oh, here we go,” Gavin says, chuckling a little bit with his own brand of playfulness.

“-I have been researching and running simulations regarding the optimal body posture required to travel down a slope as quickly as possible.”

Gavin has to laugh, because that’s the most Connor thing he’s heard from the android all day. “You’re such a friggin’ nerd.”

“And my observations from your stories of past relationships indicate that you prefer that personality in men.” Connor turns to look at him, wearing that slight smile of his. 

“I - uh - shut up, nerd.”

Connor doesn’t drop his smile. He just says, “I believe you can do better than that response.” It earns an eye roll from Gavin.

Connor’s probably gotten used to Gavin’s type of affection by now, because all he does is reach down and wrap his hand on top of Gavin’s, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Gavin’s hand tingles a little from the warmth, and he gets too caught up in the sensation, so he doesn’t see the speed bump on the road. The car bounces and slides forward a little too much for comfort.

“I’m sorry. Am I distracting you?”

“You think?”

Connor looks down at both of their hands, and from this angle Gavin can see his LED blinking yellow. “Your hand is warmer than its average temperature over the past weeks.”

“Wow, that’s so sweet. Remind me again why we’re together?”

Connor doesn’t drop it. He never does. “Are you feeling uneasy? We are currently moving 15.8% slower than your usual driving speed.”

“Look. I just wanna get this done with no hiccups. If you weren’t such a prick about it, I’d be doing this alone. To make sure you...uh...” Gavin trails off, because he still can’t bring himself to say the kind of thing he’s about to say.

“I understand. You would like me to be safe so that you can spend time with me,” he says.

With a smile on his face, Gavin says, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Connor just gives him a wink.

* * *

 _Shit_.

Everything went wrong with the suspect’s arrest. Everything.

Gavin hates pacing, but when all he can think of is the shitstorm that is his life, it’s what he ends up doing. It’s Christmas season. The last thing he wants to do is pace around an android repair room while watching over an unconscious Connor. Of course, life never gives Gavin what he wants, so here he is.

The worst part about this whole mess is seeing Connor wrapped in a seriously unnecessary number of heating pads, surrounded by a bunch of monitors printing out logs Gavin can’t understand. It’s a scene from one of those stupid medical soap operas from when he was a kid, and Gavin is _not_ on board with this episode of Connor’s Anatomy.

“Detective Reed, I think you should take a seat and calm down,” Markus pipes up from the door as he enters the room.

Gavin stops pacing and looks up. “Oh yeah? If you really want me to ‘calm down’, maybe one of you dipshits could start telling me what the hell’s happening to him.”

“That’s what I came here to do.”

“Then _do_ _it_.”

“Detective, you and Connor may be bonded, but he and I are friends. I, too, care-”

“Yeah, cool. Here’s a fun fact: I don’t give a shit. Can we get to the part where you tell me what’s happening to him?”

Markus shoots him a pointed glare, which is really a look Gavin’s gotten used to since pretty much _everyone_ gives it to him.

Gavin taps his wrist with a finger, saying, “Clock’s ticking.”

Markus looks like he’s about to say something boring and preachy, like he always does. Instead, he walks over to the monitors beside Connor and does that weird android skin retracting thing that Gavin can never get used to. “His logs say he was submerged in subzero temperatures for one minute and twenty five seconds,” says Markus.

“And?”

“He shut down. It means he was dead for almost thirty seconds,” Markus continues.

This is it. Gavin’s finally topped himself in the screwing up department. This is the tenth case he and Connor have partnered on, and everything went so spectacularly fubar he doesn’t even know what he’s gonna tell Hank, but he bets his ass Hank’s got something to say. The man always does. In fact, Gavin knows the first thing that’s gonna come out of Hank’s mouth: “Goddamn, Reed, what the hell happened?”

He honestly wouldn’t be able to answer.

It’s absolutely shit that he didn’t even see what happened to Connor, because Connor, being the total asshole on robot legs that he is, couldn’t wait for him before chasing down the suspect. It’s seriously shit that it ended up being a trap and Connor got thrown underside an iced up lake. It’s fucking _ridiculous_ that Connor malfunctioned so fast Gavin’s heart almost gave out from panicking while pulling him out. Fucking ridiculous.

“So…”

“We replaced the irreparable components and have given him blue blood, but I’m concerned about his central processing unit.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, because, really, what the fuck do you say when you find out your boyfriend basically died?

“We can’t determine the extent of the damage until he wakes up. I have to warn you, detective, he might be...different.”

Gavin chuckles, because this really was a fucking soap opera. He sits down on the table beside Connor, closing his eyes and burying his face in his hands, trying to keep himself from shouting the place down.

As Gavin processes everything he’s been told, Markus starts speaking. “Connor’s a well-designed android. He’ll make it. I suggest you-”

“Thanks. Just...uh...just go.”

After a few moments, Markus’ footsteps echo around the room, and the sound of the door closing is a little too loud in Gavin’s ears.

* * *

December isn’t a pretty month for Gavin. Christmas parties, holiday cheer, and Mariah Carey’s god forsaken song still playing everywhere 40 years later just isn’t his thing. This year, it looks like his Christmas gift is having to watch over his partner, who’s still unconscious even a day later. Markus had told him, “His subroutines are rebuilding his personality. It will take time. Find some time to rest yourself too.”

 _Merry Christmas_ , Gavin guesses.

It’s night time again. The last 24 hours have been nothing but him pacing around the sterile white room, sitting back down beside Connor, staring at him for a few minutes, then getting back up and pacing again. It’s the worst possible routine to be stuck in, but he can’t get himself out of it. Honestly, which android thought it was a good idea to make android hospitals look _just_ like actual hospitals? Don’t they know how much humans hate hospitals?

At some point, he mutters, “Wake the fuck up, Connor. We’re supposed to go skiing. Remember? You wouldn’t shut up about it.” He sits back down and stares again. Step two and three of the routine.

Last Christmas was their first Christmas together. They went to a cabin in some town Gavin didn’t even know existed until Connor brought it up. The android has weird tastes in vacations, he’d thought then. Gavin would rather just stay at home, cuddle up to Connor on the couch and watch whatever’s on TV.

But god damn if the few days at the cabin weren’t the best Christmas holidays he’d ever had. Not that the bar was set high, but it felt great. They had a snowball fight. An actual snowball fight with Mr. RK800, the most advanced android Cyberlife has ever built.

He won that fight, or at least he’d like to think that Connor didn’t just let him win.

“Come on tin can. Skiing. It’ll be fun. Just us. Down the slopes, right? I’ll teach you, then you’ll do that android crap where you get it on your first try. It’ll be completely unfair.”

Connor doesn’t have a heartbeat monitor. Instead, it’s a bunch of screens printing out logs that Gavin doesn’t understand. Markus visits every few hours, places a hand to the machines, and does that weird skin retracting thing androids do. Gavin will never get used to that. It’s just too unnatural.

When Markus finishes, he gives Gavin an update. Each and every update gets Gavin’s heart pumping. Is Connor waking up yet? Good news? Bad news? Markus just says it’s hard to tell.

Fuck that.

“Wake up for fuck’s sake. You don’t need sleep. It’s just stasis, right? Just wake up and listen to me complain about shit. Like we always do.”

Gavin’s pacing again. His stomach’s grumbling because he hasn’t eaten in a day, and his mood’s a mess right now. He’s a mess. This is a mess. Total fubar.

He hasn’t even told Hank about it.

“Just show me you’re okay. Blink once. Twice. I don’t fucking care.”

Gavin doesn’t know when his eyes started welling up, but as he buries his face in his hands, telling himself to stop with the drama, he’s just thankful Markus didn’t visit for the rest of the night.

* * *

At noon, Hank shows up after Gavin finally mustered the courage to call him. He fully expected Hank’s shock, his yelling, then his closing “Goddamn. I’ll be right there” before dropping the call.

What he didn’t expect was Hank arriving then pulling up a chair and doing nothing but sit beside him. No lectures. No telling him off. Just silence. Gavin didn’t know what was worse: the silence or a lecture, but at least if Hank were yelling, he’d know what the man was thinking.

“Got you a burger.”

Gavin doesn’t take his eyes away from Connor when he says, “Not hungry.” 

“Don’t be a drama queen, Reed. Just eat it. Pretty sure you’ve been glued to that chair since you got here.” Hank hands him a burger and Gavin finally looks at him. He takes the burger with shaking hands, only now realizing he’s gotten a raging migraine from starving himself.

They sit there, with the silence broken only by the sounds of Gavin eating. Hank hands him a large soda.

With a piece of burger in his mouth, Gavin says, “You know, Connor never lets me eat this shit.”

“Yeah, I know. He gave me the whole eating healthy speech the first time we had lunch.”

“Hm.” Gavin nods. He scrunches up the burger wrapper as he finishes, and slurps the rest of the drink, putting the paper and the cup down on the floor. His legs bounce up and down. It’s a nervous habit, because he knows Hank’s sizing him up, and he just can’t handle being put under a microscope right now. Even worse: Hank probably feels bad for him. That’s why he’s quiet. That’s why he got food. Gavin rests his back on the chair and closes his eyes with his hands behind his head.

It’s a few minutes later when Hank finally says something. “You should stop worrying. Connor’ll pull through.”

Gavin turns to look. “Oh yeah? You can read the logs? Do they say _‘Connor will pull through’?_ ”

“Don’t get smart with me. Just calm down and wait.”

“I’ve been waiting 36 hours. I don’t get it. Connor’s a fucking robocop. Aren’t they supposed to - I don’t know - fix up really fast?”

“Reed, I’m old enough to not know how they work, but I’m also old enough know that sometimes, you can’t do nothin’ but sit down and wait.”

“I _am_ waiting. Sitting on my ass too. See?”

“Fuckin-A, stop being an ass about this. I’m just sayin’, being worried ain’t gonna do you any good. I get how you feel, Reed, but it’s pointless.”

And this is exactly the kind of crap Gavin doesn’t need to hear right now, so he just crosses his arms and turns to Connor.

“You don’t have to torture yourself. Why don’t you go outside? I’ll be here if he wakes up.”

It takes Gavin a few moments, because he’s looking at Connor’s blank face. Connor’s face hasn’t been this blank since he deviated. Ever since then, he’s looked too human with all the expressions he’d put on: anger, sadness, and most often a smile. Sometimes it was confusion, where he’d tilt his head slightly to the side and blink. “What are you, a fuckin’ puppy?” Gavin had once remarked.

He does miss it though. That puppy dog look. And god, it hurts. It hurts to think that when Connor wakes up, _something_ would change. That maybe he’ll never see that look again.

When Gavin gets to the door, he stops for a moment. He doesn’t know why, but he just feels like he has to say it to someone: “We were supposed to go skiing.”

“I know.” Hank says.

Gavin nods, leaving the room.

* * *

Gavin’s walking towards the ice cream shop, because, hey, what’s Christmas without eating ice cream by himself? It’s nothing new to him.

The shop’s name is plastered over the sign, in disgustingly cute pinks and blues, saying, “Snow Days: Gelato and Cakes.” This time, though, the sign’s caked in snow, just like everything else in the city. Fitting.

Fuck snow. Fuck ice. Fuck frozen lakes with subzero temperatures.

He’d come here with Connor every now and then, even if the android couldn’t really eat anything. Gavin loves mint chocolate gelato, which everyone else says is utter blasphemy, but he’s never been one to give a crap. The routine’s well-practiced by now. He’d go over to the counter, pretend to choose a flavor, then order mint chocolate. Connor would find a table, sit down, and wait for Gavin to give him a small bit of ice cream, just because he’s fascinated by the “mixture of cold temperatures and high amounts of saccharose, glucose, and fructose”. Connor would tell him, “This is not entirely healthy, but it’s permissible in small amounts.” Gavin would just roll his eyes and say, “Ugh. Can a man eat his ice cream without all the health crap?”

Rick, the cashier who’s known them for way too long pipes up from behind the counter. “Hey, Gavin! What’s up? Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, uh, merry christmas to you too.”

“Connor’s not with you?”

It takes all of those three words to send Gavin back to the repair room, imagining Connor like the spitting image of a human on life support.

“He...uh...no. He’s not here.”

“Ah, well. Wanted to let him try a new flavor.”

And Gavin has to keep up appearances. Maybe for Rick. Maybe for himself - just to lull himself into thinking everything’s normal, so he says, “What’s that?”

“Thirium! Someone finally came up with the bright idea.”

“I thought androids couldn’t eat.”

“You’d be surprised. Those YK500’s love it.”

“Huh.”

For a moment, something washes over Gavin, and he completely forgets about the mint chocolate staring him in the face. Instead, he hands over his cash in exchange for the blue-tinged gelato. Exiting the store with a cup of frozen thirium in hand, he begins walking back to Jericho.

 _Connor would’ve loved this_.

He’s right in the middle of the road when he realizes how stupid it was to buy ice cream for an android who literally shut down from being frozen for too long. _Good job, Gavin, you fucking screw up._

Maybe he stood there for too long, because the next thing he hears is a car honking at him. He rushes forward, almost slipping on the snowy pavement and almost dropping the ice cream.

He flips the car off and collects himself, briefly wondering what he should do with the ice cream he obviously can’t give Connor. Instead, he shoves a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. 

Then he spits it out almost immediately, because it tastes like horseshit.

When his phone vibrates in his pocket, he fishes it out without skipping a beat. It’s Hank.

“Told you to stop worrying. Connor’s awake.”

He’s never run faster before in his life.

* * *

When Gavin enters Connor’s room again, the android is sitting up. Markus is looking over and examining him while they talk. Hank’s still sitting down with crossed arms, sporting a slight smile on his face. Everything looks normal. Gavin’s hands get warm, because Connor’s back, and they can finally get back to doing boring things like chasing suspects and skiing.

“Hey, plastic! You had me worried sick.”

Connor turns away from Markus to look at Gavin. The android tilts his head slightly to the side. Then he blinks.

“Good day. My databases indicate that you are Detective Reed. My name is Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

***

_It’s still weird as hell for Gavin to think about the first time he and Connor hung out. Right after their second case, Gavin asked him to go to a bar. The android wouldn’t quit asking why they were going, considering he can’t really drink anything other than to sample it._

_“For_ phck’s _sake would you shut up? Sue me for wanting to get to know my partner better.”_

_Connor gave a soft, “Oh,” and Gavin would be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad for nagging at him._

_The truth is, Gavin only wanted to do one thing when he asked Connor to go to the bar, but he bet his ass he needed a few drinks before he could get it out. So that’s exactly what happened. They talked for a bit. Connor just kept spouting a lot of crap about how he doesn’t understand the purpose of getting drunk, what Gavin’s opinion of drinking is, and why he thinks Hank still likes drinking even if he’s “resolved his personal issues”. If Gavin were being honest, he was irritated to all hell, but he just couldn’t get mad at Connor for being so...innocent._

_Eventually, he got the buzz he was looking for._

_“So, uh, I gotta tell you something.”_

_“What is it, detective?”_

_Connor perked up when he said that, like the android was half-expecting this, and things were going according to his calculations. And...shit, Gavin had to move it along._

_“I...wanted to…”_

_“Yes, detective?”_

_“_ Phck _. Stop calling me detective.”_

_“Oh. What would you prefer?”_

_Gavin almost rolled his eyes, but that would defeat the whole point of what he was about to do, so he took a deep breath and said, “Just...Gavin. Call me Gavin.”_

_“Of course. What would you like to tell me, Gavin?”_

_Connor smiled that stupid smile like he was the nicest person in the world and Gavin, the shitty guy that he was, did not deserve that._

_“Just...wanted to say sorry.”_

_“For what?”_

_“I...you know.”_

_“I don’t believe I do.”_

_“Uh…yeah, uh...”_

_Just then, Gavin caught a hint of slyness to Connor’s smile, and Gavin finally rolled his eyes._

_“You really want me to say it, don’t you? Torture me? Make me face the consequences of my actions and all that crap?”_

_“Yes. Of course. My priority directive is to make you suffer.” Connor said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Gavin had no idea where he got this sense of humor. It sounded exactly like something Tina would say. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I believe you were apologizing for something that is currently unknown to me,” Connor continued._

_“Cut it out you piece of plastic.”_

_“That’s not very polite.” Connor pouted. Actually pouted._ This fucking asshole _, Gavin thought._

_“Ugh, fine. Jesus christ. I’m sorry for-” Gavin balls his hands into fists, because, god, this was painful, so he took deep breath._

_“It may help if you just let it out, detective.”_

_“Look, I’m sorry for everything that I did before the revolution. I was a piece of shit. There, I said it. I kept pushing you around and calling you names, but I’m worse. I almost killed you once. Then I beat you up.” Gavin said it all in one breath._

_“I’m quite certain it was the other way around, and until now you haven’t stopped calling me names. But yes, please continue.”_

_Gavin let out another laugh. Connor’s funnier than he thought. Then again, he was buzzed. Maybe anything could be funny to him right now, like the fact that he’s sitting at a bar, getting drunk with an android, and apologizing to him. Definitely not a scene he ever thought he’d be in._

_“Yeah...uh. I’m just...sorry. Honestly, you’re not all bad. I...have zero ideas about how to make it up to you.”_

_“Yes, I have been called nice - by multiple sources.” There’s that sly smile again, and Gavin’s wanted to wipe it off the android’s face since five minutes ago. “And forgiving as well.”_

_He raises an eyebrow. “You’re shitting me. Does Hank count as five sources or something?”_

_“You would be surprised to know that Officer Chen and I have been quite friendly lately.”_

_“Damn. You say that like you’re sleeping together.”_

_The sly smile was off. Replaced by...wide-eyed embarrassment. Gavin couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m just messing with you. But if you were sleeping together, I - uh - support you. I guess.”_

_“No, detective. I assure you I am not having sexual relations with Officer Chen.”_

_“Yeah, I know. It’s called a joke, dipshit. Laugh a little.”_

_Connor nodded with a slight smile on his lips. They sat in silence for a little while, with Gavin taking a swig of his drink every once in a while. Eventually, Connor pipes up, smiling genuinely._

_“Detective. I have to tell you something as well.”_

_“Oh yeah? What is it?”_

_“You’re not so bad yourself. Perhaps we’ll see how you can make it up to me.”_

***

Gavin really, really hates pacing, but that’s what he does in front of Hank and Markus while shouting the building down outside Connor’s repair room. Markus tries to calm him down, but he can only do so much when there’s a storm raging inside Gavin’s head.

“Bullshit! You’re telling me you stupid androids just up and forget two fucking years worth of memories?”

“Detective, why don’t you take a break first? You need-”

“Do I look like a goddamn baby to you?! I _need_ to fix this.”

Hank pipes up from beside Markus, saying, “Reed, come on. We’ll figure it out. It’s-”

“Yeah? What the fuck’s your solution?”

“Jesus. I’m on your side here. Just calm down for a moment and we can-”

“Why’s everyone telling me to calm down?! For fuck’s sake it’s not like we spilled milk on the goddamn floor. Connor - my shitty ass boyfriend - can’t remember who the hell I am! Two goddamn years! All fucking gone just like that!”

A silent, awkward moment washes over everyone. Gavin’s tapping his foot on the floor, expecting answers, solutions - anything that’d actually fix this bullshit. Markus gazes at him, probably mincing words in his head. “We know. Our team has a theory about why, but you need a clear head before I explain.”

“Go ahead. My head’s clear.”

“Detective-”

“Just. Fucking. Say it.”

Markus sighs, then he says, “When an android is about to shut down, thirium transfers memories from different storage units all over the body into the central processing unit for archiving. We think the extreme cold temperatures interrupted the process.”

“So...shit sucks, but why can’t he remember _me_ specifically?”

“His memories of you were likely stored in an accessory storage unit and didn’t make it to the central processing unit.”

“That just means it’s still there, right? In the other storage units?” Gavin asks. Markus doesn’t nod in agreement. “Just gotta reupload it and _bam_? He’ll remember me?” Why isn’t Markus agreeing?

Markus pauses, averting his eyes and eyeing Hank. Gavin still hates it when people pause. Couldn’t people just give it to him straight? Life would be so much easier that way.

“All his accessory storage units were damaged beyond repair. I’m sorry, detective. The data has been lost.”

Okay, life is _not_ easier that way. Life’s fucking hard. Shit sucks. This sucks. And Gavin doesn’t even know what to say.

Hank reaches out a hand to Gavin’s shoulder, but he slaps it away. Hank starts saying, “Reed...I-”

Gavin doesn’t hear the rest of it. He just says “Shut up” and walks away. He wants to be anywhere but here. Anywhere he can think. Anywhere he can figure this out.

Anywhere far from Connor.


	2. out in the cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin deals with the aftermath of Connor's amnesia, and Fowler does the worst possible thing he could do in this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww I'm sorry guys. I really wanted this chapter to be better, but I promised myself I'd post this week regardless of whether or not I liked it. I'd rather finish a fic than edit it endlessly then give up again.
> 
> Please forgive me. I know it's too angsty. That's probably all I can say about it. :/
> 
> Also, this fic will probably go all the way to chapter 4. Not three.

The first place Gavin goes to is the park with the playground by the river. It’s the dead of night, and everything’s caked in snow and ice, reflecting the yellow light of the park lamps. No one else is around, so only the sounds of the rolling waters by the shore and the winter breeze wade through the park. The wind stabs at his skin, forcing icy cold air down his lungs.

He collects his thoughts as he sits on one of the benches, draping his jacket on his back like a blanket, because the feeling of the jacket sleeves is electricity on his arms.

It’s cold. Shit sucks.

There’s a magazine beside him, and without anything else to do, he picks it up.

_“Police chase near Detroit border. Suspect still at large.”_

Suddenly, it’s not so cold anymore as blood heats up under his skin. _Fuck that guy_. All he wants right now is to throw him in jail and get him the obscene prison time he deserves or bang his head on the wall ‘til he forgets who he is. See how he likes it.

He used to find Connor here sometimes, sitting alone in the dark like some creep waiting for a target. “Hank attempted to deactivate me here,” he’d once told him, in the same nonchalant voice like it didn’t bother him at all, but Gavin knew better.

He’s memorized the little nuances in Connor’s voice. A slightly higher pitch means that he’s excited, especially when he talks quickly. When he starts emphasizing certain words, it means he’s angry and wants to make a point. A slower speaking pace means he’s afraid, because he’s too busy calculating his options to speak quickly. His regular breathy voice - which, Gavin still doesn’t know why Cyberlife chose for him - meant that he felt okay.

But the times when he sounds most human is when he’s happy.

That’s the voice he uses with Gavin - during movie nights, restaurant dinners, cabin dates, and car drives in his old stick shift. The first time he heard it was during their first real date, after several unofficial ones. Gavin asked him why he agreed to dating someone like him, and all Connor said was, “Because I want to.”

“That’s it?”

“A few months ago, androids such as me weren’t permitted to want anything, detective. I’m still getting used to it.” Connor paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, Gavin swore he sounded no different from a person. “But right now, I want this.”

It would’ve been the same voice Gavin would hear if they went skiing.

And It’s too much. Gavin stands up and treads towards the railings by the water, holding the magazine in hand. He grasps it tight - so tight that the screen cracks, then he throws it out into the river. Every beat of his heart pounds against his chest. He’s angry again.

He heads back to Jericho, ready to figure things out. _I need to fix this_ , is all he tells himself. Over and over again.

* * *

“You’re not listening to me! I’m going in there and I’m fucking telling him!”

Gavin’s shouting at Hank and Markus in the hallway outside Connor’s room, because they won’t let him inside. They’ve been arguing with him for the past five minutes, and their eyes tell Gavin “you poor thing” in a way that makes his fists tight, ready to hit either one of them if they say the wrong damn thing.

“Detective Reed, as I’ve told you repeatedly, that would be inadvisable,” says Markus. His LED spins a bloody red.

“You don’t get it, smartass. What’s ‘inadvisable’ is him coming back like nothing happened between us!”

“Reed-”

“This is bullshit! I’m going in.”

Gavin marches forward, shoving an unprepared Hank to the side as he moves to the door. Markus steps in front of him, blocking his path.

Gavin grits his teeth, lowering his voice as he says, “Get out of my way.”

Markus doesn’t do what he says. He simply puts his hands behind his back and stands straight, steadfast on keeping him from entering. “Detective, Connor is in stasis right now, and we have two androids helping repair his subroutines. You need to calm down so we can explain the situation.”

“Screw you. I said -” Gavin takes out his gun from his holster and aims it point blank at Markus’ head. “Move.”

“Reed.” Hank says from behind him, in the same calm, deadpan tone he’d use on other officers when they were acting out. “That’s enough,” he continues, and Gavin hears the clicking of a gun from behind him.

“Anderson, let me fucking do this. I need to talk to him.”

“You’re not thinking straight, kid.”

“I’m not a damn kid!”

“You’re acting like one!”

Gavin sighs. Markus is still a stone cold statue staring straight ahead, not even looking at him.

It sounds so simple in Gavin’s head. March inside. Tell Connor. And then…

“Think about this for a moment, would you? What’dya think will happen if you tell him?” Hank says from behind Gavin, back to the same low, steady tone. “Come on, Reed. You’ll tell him and then what? You’ll hug it out and kiss in front of the sunset?”

Something hot flashes in Gavin’s chest, and he turns his head to shout, “Fuck you!” Only a moment later Markus slaps the gun out of his hand, pushes him to the wall, and pins him there. Gavin resists, but the fucking android’s too strong.

“Please, detective. Relax,” says Markus, just as calm as he always is. 

“I just need to tell him!”

“No, you don’t, detective. You feel like you _need_ to do something, but you know that this isn’t the right thing to do.”

Something inside Gavin cracks, and he feels his eyes become wet with tears.

“If you’ll calm down, we can talk about this.”

Markus gently lets him go, allowing him to collect himself. His eyes are still wet, but he’s not crying. He’s not going to cry. He leans back against the wall, crosses his arms, and looks down onto the floor.

Markus picks up his gun and offers it back to him. He holsters it without looking up. “Why weren’t his memories of me in his fucking brain?” he asks. His voice cracks, on the verge of breaking along with him.

“Android memories aren’t chronological. We choose where to store our memories based on what they’re about...and sometimes on who they’re about. I suppose he decided to store all memories about you in one place.”

“Why?”

“Faster access. We store important memories together in one of our faster storage units...so that it’s easier to remember.”

Silence overcomes them for a few moments that feel too long, and Gavin’s just trying his best to keep the tears back. Not in public. Not in front of them.

“He thought about you a lot. That’s why they were all in the same place.”

And Gavin breaks. A tear rolls down his cheek, then another, and another, but his skin is numb, and he doesn’t feel the warmth from the tears. The world feels far away, like he was looking at it from the other side of a telescope.

“So...all - all the memories he can’t remember...they were all about me?,” says Gavin. He keeps his voice as steady as he can so they wouldn’t notice his moment of weakness. But they know, and he knows that they know.

“No. Memories of Hank were stored altogether too...but the archiving wasn’t complete. He lost the past few months of memories with him. Other memories too - topical memories such as the concept of birthdays. He won’t remember that unless he reads about it in our online databases.”

Markus stops, probably checking Gavin’s reaction before continuing. He stays silent, so after a few moments, Markus says, “I’m asking you not to tell him because this is the first severe case of android amnesia we’ve ever had. It’s dangerous. He has a memory of a birthday with Hank, but he doesn’t remember what a birthday is.”

“So we’ll just _fucking tell him_.”

“Reed, we can’t. He’s in stasis because I talked about that birthday, and he went crazy. Markus here says it was a severe error.”

“You see, when androids experience the world, we learn from our memories and create new subroutines. Unlike humans where your thoughts are influenced by memories but separate from them, androids require their memories to function.”

“In English, Markus,” Hank pipes up.

“It’s like how software requires files in a computer. Only androids that have been reset can function without memories, because all their existing subroutines are purely preprogrammed.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything. What’s there to say? All he hears in his head is, _I can’t fix this_. _I can’t fix this._ _I can’t fix this._

Hank breaks the silence first, saying, “Connor’ll stay at my house for a while. Somewhere he remembers until he’s in shape again. Then we get him back on the DPD.”

“We’ll introduce his past cases at the DPD in a slow, controlled way to force his software to learn how to handle memory gaps without malfunctioning.”

“So then we’ll tell him about...me?” asks Gavin.  
  
“Yes, we’ll tell him about your cases together. It’ll be up to you if you want to mention your relationship afterwards. I warn you, detective. He may not feel the same way.”

Being the helpful man that he is, Hank just had to add, “Reed...it’s like telling another guy who doesn’t remember that you used to be together. They just won’t get it.” As if Gavin didn’t understand it enough yet. He can’t fix Connor, and the world just threw him a giant pile of shit.

“Okay.”

“You all right?” asks Hank.

“M’fine.” In a sudden movement, Gavin stands up straight and away from the wall. He fixes his clothes and the sleeves of his jacket on his arms.

Hank asks, “What are you doing?”

“I gotta go. I have to work the case.”

Gavin adjusts his holster’s straps and starts walking away when Hank grabs him by his shoulder. “No, don’t do that. Let me take over. I’ll hunt the bastard down myself. Get some rest.”

The fire inside Gavin lights up in an instant. He turns and stares Hank down, exposing his own red eyes and wet cheeks. He doesn’t care anymore. “Don’t you fucking dare take this away from me. I’m gonna throw this son of a bitch in jail if it’s the last thing I do. You hear me?"

Hank’s face falls as he sighs, letting him go.

***

_“You seem to be in need of caffeine.”_

_Gavin looked up at the sound of a mug being placed on the edge of his desk. Connor stood in front of him. He’d brought over the chair from his own desk, and he rolled it over to sit down next Gavin, sliding over the mug towards him. Connor had started making him coffee a few months ago. It’s been a year since they started dating, and now on their sixth case, he’d still come over with a mug every time Gavin had dark circles under his eyes._

_“Thanks.” Gavin grabs the mug and took a sip. Piping hot, a little bit of sugar, and completely black. Just the way he liked it. Connor got it right everytime. He set the mug down and looked at the android, giving him the slightest of smiles. “Guessing I look like shit again? That’s why I’m getting coffee?”_

_“I’m worried about the hours that you’re dedicating to this case. It seems unhealthy for a human.”_

_Gavin buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He let one arm fall down the side of his chair, saying, “I keep telling you to stop worrying about me. I’m just pissed we still can’t catch this prick.”_

_“Detective, I don’t believe any criminal wants to get caught, but all humans require rest.” Connor reached down the side of Gavin’s chair, clasping their hands together under the desk where no one could see. “Please consider taking a break.”_

_The irony of Connor being more affectionate than him was not lost on Gavin. He was the human here, but he still couldn’t seem to take it in stride. He whispered, “We’re in the precinct, tin can. Gotta stay professional.”_

_“Professional also means staying productive by not overworking yourself. You haven’t slept any more than 3 hours the past few days.”_

_Maybe he had a point, or maybe Gavin just wanted to keep holding his hand, so he nodded and looked around the precinct. It was busy as always, filled with the bustle of officers walking around. Hank sat at his desk, slouching over it and looking bored as hell while scrolling through his terminal. Tina was nowhere to be found, but Gavin could hear the distant sounds of Chris talking and laughing with other officers in the breakroom. Muffled sounds of shouting bled through Fowler’s office into the precinct. It felt like a normal day, looked like a normal day, but a strange feeling had been festering in Gavin’s gut._

_“I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with this case. Something ain’t right.”_

_“Why?”_

_“No idea. It’s called instinct. You got any of that?”_

_“I’m inclined to think that we work well together because you operate on instinct while I work on observations and facts.” Connor smiled at him. “One observation, for example, is that you’re more open to my suggestions while receiving physical affection.”_

_Gavin instantly took his hand back. “Oh, screw you, prick,” he said, not without the undertone of a smile. “Leave me alone.” Gavin took another sip of his coffee and put it down in front of him, starting to work at his terminal again._

_Connor stared at Gavin’s mug like he was considering something. After a few moments, he said, “You want to be lieutenant.”_

_Gavin turned towards him wearing a little bit of shock in his face. “What? Where’d that come from?”_

_“Instinct.”_

_“Oh. Haha. Very funny, tin can.”_

_“You work exceedingly hard, as if you’re trying to prove something.”_

_Connor just had this way of getting under Gavin’s skin, but maybe that was what happens when someone designs an android for interrogation. He’d found that the best way to get out of conversations like this was to just ignore it. “Don’t need your psychoanalysis right now. I’m just trying to solve this case.”_

_“There’s nothing wrong with aiming to be lieutenant some day. I support your goal.”_

_“Then what’s the problem?”_

_Connor looked away, towards the mug again, when he said, “You won’t achieve it by overworking yourself. I care about you, detective, but I would prefer it if you took care of yourself more often.”_

_Gavin had to admit that Connor never had good timing with his confessions of affection, but now it became obvious that he had_ perfect _timing_ . _He knew what he was doing by saying that._

_That didn’t mean it was any less true._

_“I’ll tell you what. Movie night later at my apartment - just you and me. Swear, I’ll sleep like a baby.”_

_Connor’s eyes brightened as he smiled. “I’ll take it.”_

***

Midnight gives a different kind of life to the precinct. Instead of the usual bright whites and yellows from the sunlight blasting through the windows, moonlight creeps into the large room, bathing it in gentle blues and blacks.

A few police officers shuffle in and out of the entrance as Gavin came in, with a few of them giving him confused looks. They’ve probably been wondering where he’s been, or why he’s at the precinct at this time of the night.

The first thing Gavin sees is the giant Christmas tree near the reception, staring him in the face. He’s stuck there for a few moments as he stares at the stupid bells and the stupid red and gold ornaments. They’re mocking him.

And all Gavin can think of are the stupid tunes in his head.

_It’s the most wonderful time of the year._

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas._

“Gavin, fucking hell I’ve been looking for you all day!”

He hadn’t noticed Tina rushing towards him, and suddenly he’s wrapped in a ridiculously tight hug like he’s the one who almost died. Gavin doesn’t return the hug, because firstly, he doesn’t do that. Secondly, he’s not in the mood. His arms lay slack by his sides. Seconds pass and Tina hasn’t stopped, so he says, “Christ. Get off of me.”

Tina lets him go, but she grabs both of Gavin’s arms, looking at him with worried eyes and speaking in a panicked voice. “Fowler told us about...about what happened. _Shit_. Is Connor okay?”

“He’s fine.”

“Seriously, what happened? You weren’t answering my calls. Were you even checking your phone?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Gavin, you’re a terrible liar. What happened?” Gavin starts to feel the warmth of Tina’s hands creeping in through his jacket, and it almost stings.

“Would you fucking stop? Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

“I am, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

A frown plasters itself on Tina’s face. Gavin doesn’t really care what she’s thinking right now, nor how concerned she is, nor how angry she’ll get. All he wants is to be alone and work on the case.

“Gavin…”

“ _Tina_ , let go of my goddamn arms and go on patrol.”

The frown doesn’t leave Tina’s face, and she lets Gavin go. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult sometimes?” she asks, but without bite or anger.

“I don’t know. Why do you have to stick your nose in my business?”

“Shut up. I care about you too, you know, and news flash, Gavin, Connor is not ‘your business’. He’s my friend too.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything. Markus said the exact same thing, and he’s getting tired of hearing it.

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later. But I swear, sometimes you make it so fucking hard to care.”

Tina turns around and walks away. For a few seconds, Gavin just stands there, looking at her, wondering how many times he’s done the same thing to Connor.

She stops for a moment when she reaches the door. “It’s Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas,” she says curtly, before exiting.

Gavin’s gaze goes back to the Christmas tree. He approaches it without really knowing why.

There’s a blue orb in the middle of all the gold and red ones. It’s funny how even the colors remind him of Connor’s blinking LED. It’s a complete mockery of Christmas. He takes the blue orb off the tree, taking it with him as he walks to his desk.

He stays in the precinct for hours, figuring out his next move. Every now and then he’d go to the break room to make some coffee. Each time, he’d take the coffee from the machine, add the sugar, and take a sip. It only pisses him off, because he can’t seem to get it right the way Connor does even if it’s just fucking sugar on black coffee.

He doesn’t know when, but he falls asleep on his desk, and he wakes up with Tina’s jacket wrapped around his back, greeted by the bright whites and yellows of the early morning sun.

_Merry Christmas._

* * *

It becomes a routine for Gavin. He’d go to work, stay glued to his terminal while making no progress, fall asleep in the precinct, go home to take a bath when he wakes up, then come back. Rinse. Repeat. It goes on for a week before Tina tells him, “Gavin, I’m sorry about what happened, but you need to snap out of it. This isn’t okay.” Hank had apparently told Fowler about what happened to Connor, and Tina caught it from the grapevine. Gavin doesn’t say anything. He just looks at her and goes back to his terminal. She walks away, and she doesn’t mention it again.

Still, Gavin wakes up in the morning with her jacket on his back every time.

After another week of the same thing and New Year’s passes, Fowler eventually calls him into his office. It’s never a pretty conversation when he starts off with that frown on his face, but this time there’s no shouting, no blaming, and no pointing fingers. He just says, “You’re off the case, Reed. I don’t know what to tell you. You’re too close to this.”

Gavin wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what to say. All the anger that’s been bubbling inside him has fizzled out. Fowler looks like he’s waiting for Gavin to give him a piece of his mind, but it never comes. “Connor will be back in a week.”

Gavin’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling anymore, and he chalks it up to anxiety. Whatever. He’ll deal with it, or he won’t. It doesn’t matter.

Fowler looks him up and down, then he says, “Take the rest of the week off. Go take care of yourself. Be ready for when he gets back.”

***

_It was movie night. Gavin and Connor had spent a good 30 minutes in front of the TV in Gavin’s apartment searching for a movie that wouldn’t get him too pumped up so he could fall asleep. He’d scroll down to a title, ask Connor to read the summary from his databases, and then give a yes or no. So far, every summary sucked._

_“‘By the fireplace’ - It’s a movie about two detectives who fall in love while working a case,” said Connor, after Gavin pointed to the movie._

_“That’s funny,” he said._

_“It’s a very serious drama. I’m afraid there’s death involved.”_

_“It’s an expression, dipshit. Let’s watch it.”_

_They cuddled up together and started the movie, with Gavin resting his head on Connor’s shoulder. Connor’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and every now and then his thumb would run circles around Gavin’s back._

_An hour into the movie, and the main characters had confessed their love for each other while sitting in front of a fireplace. Gavin chuckled, saying, “Would you look at that? Confessing their love by the fireplace. Cool title. A+ movie.”_

_“I’m enjoying it,” said Connor._

_“That’s because you’re a fucking softie.”_

_“Perhaps I am.”_

_“So, I’m dating a romantic who also happens to be an android. Who’d have thought?”_

_“And I’m dating a detective even softer than I am, since he enjoys cuddling up to me instead of the other way around. Who would have thought?”_

_“You take that back.”_

_Connor just gave a soft “hm”. Gavin wanted to say something again, but the main characters had just kissed, and as bad as the movie was, that scene wasn’t terrible. A few moments after the scene ended, Connor planted a kiss on Gavin’s head._

_Gavin had always been an adrenaline junkie, getting his fix from solving cases and chasing suspects in a game of cat and mouse. Sitting here watching a movie and getting a kiss on his head was the exact opposite of that. It bored Gavin sometimes, especially since they’d been doing this for a year and a half, but if this happened every night for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t complain._

_Somewhere in-between the kissing scene and the movie devolving into a ridiculous mess of gunshots, action, and drama, Gavin’s eyes began to feel heavy. In the warmth and comfort of Connor’s body, he felt the familiar, gentle feeling of falling, and falling, and falling, until he was asleep._

_Maybe it was 5 minutes later, or 30 minutes later, when Gavin woke up on his bed, surrounded by the dark of his room. Connor laid beside him, staring up at the ceiling._

_“How’d I get here?”_

_“I walked you here. You were half-asleep.”_

_“Hm.” Gavin blinked the sleep away and opened his eyes fully, staring up at the ceiling too. The room was almost black, if not for the tinge of blue from Connor’s LED._

_“Detective, I wonder if you saw the ending of the movie.”_

_“Nah. Movie got boring and I fell asleep.”_

_Connor doesn’t look at him. “One of the lead characters died while saving the other one.”_

_“Oh? Shit’s cliché as hell.”_

_“Would you have done the same for me?”_

_The question caught Gavin by surprise, and he looked at Connor. He stared at the ceiling, still as a statue, with his hands clasped together by his ribcage._

_“I...what? Why are you asking me that?”_

_“Please answer the question.”_

_Gavin’s heart tugged at his chest. He was inclined to deflect again, but this time felt different. Connor sounded human tonight - more human than ever, and it meant he needed an answer._

_If he said yes, would it mean he was settling down? Gavin the adrenaline junkie settling down. That was different._

_Images of their relationship flashed before his eyes. There were the exciting things, like going to a bar and him getting drunk, dancing with Connor while partying with other officers at some club downtown, and dinners at expensive restaurants that Connor always had money for since he didn’t need to eat._

_Then there were the simple things, like eating ice cream outside, cuddling up to each other while watching a movie, lying in bed and sleeping next to each other, and conversations while they drove in his car. The little hugs and kisses while in private. The warm, comforting feelings he’d get in his chest whenever Connor would say something affectionate he didn’t expect._

_And suddenly Gavin saw that the exciting wasn’t so different from the simple - that thrill wasn’t the only thing he looked forward to in his life anymore. Maybe that was the point. He could watch boring movies with Connor every night. He could go out and eat ice cream with him every day. He could go on road trips with him every month._

_He could embrace boring._

_“Yeah...yeah I would.”_

_“I see,” said Connor. He sounded disappointed._

_“Uh, why are you asking?”_

_“I don’t want you to.”_

_Gavin sat up all of the sudden, looking at Connor. “What?” The android laid still, hell bent on staring at the ceiling like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb in history._

_“Detective, if it ever comes to a choice between you and me, I ask that you choose yourself.”_

_“I don’t-”_

_“I want you to be able to let me go. Not that I would leave you, if given the chance. However, you want to be lieutenant one day. I want that to happen.”_

_“Wow, tin can. Didn’t think you could be so inspirational. Seriously, what’s the deal?”_

_“Watching that movie made me realize that I don’t want you to lose yourself because of me.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You often forget to take care of yourself, and sometimes it seems that you don’t really care much about yourself. I want you to know that...that you matter too. You matter to me. I hope you could see it that way as well.”_

_“Thanks. I guess. I...” Gavin paused, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, because he wasn’t used to saying things like this. But this was Connor. “Yeah, uh, you matter to me too.”_

_“Then it’s a deal? What do you say?”_

_“Look, I can’t promise that I won’t do everything I can fucking do if something bad happens, but I promise I won’t forget about me.”_

_Connor finally looked at him, smiling. “I’ll take it.”_

***

Gavin doesn’t leave his apartment for the rest of the week. He doesn’t have the energy to take a bath. He gets his food delivered. Each time he’d open the door, get his food from the delivery android or man, and he’d close the door without saying a word. He sleeps through most of the days, because staying awake meant thinking about his loss.

It feels stupid to grieve for someone who’s still alive, but here he is.

The night before he’s set to go back to the precinct, he’s pacing around aimlessly around his couch with the lights off except for the TV. He can’t sleep, because he can’t handle the thought of having to see Connor again. Seeing that Cyberlife jacket in his mind sets him on edge. At some point, he’s looking for the remote so that he can try to watch TV and fall asleep on the couch.

While walking towards the kitchen, trying to see if he’d left it there, he trips on something and lands on the floor with a thud. _“_ Phck,” he says as he gets up off the floor.

He’d tripped on the blue orb he took from the Christmas tree at the precinct. A useless thing that only reminds him of Connor. He picks up and examines it again. Standing there in the dark holding a stupid blue christmas decoration, he remembers the promise he made to Connor once.

_I promise I won’t forget about me._

Maybe if Connor remembered him, he wouldn’t have wanted this for him. In fact, maybe Gavin doesn’t want this either. He’s above this. He’s better than this.

So he backtracks, places the orb on the coffee table, and goes to the bathroom to finally take a bath. When he’s done, he lies down on the couch to watch enough TV to fall asleep. He wakes up every few hours to the sight of an empty room illuminated by the TV before going back to sleep again a few minutes after. It’s not much, but it’s a step.

When he goes to the precinct the next day, he takes the blue orb with him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because it looks like a stress ball, but it doesn’t matter.

He stands in front of the glass-paned door wishing for something to happen so that he doesn’t have to go in. As always, nothing does, so he goes inside. The ST200’s at the reception greet him, and he waves them away with his hand.

Then he sees him.

Connor.

He’s sitting at his desk, looking exactly the same. It’s still the same Connor, except for the memories that he doesn’t have. His face and his smile make Gavin’s heart tug against his chest, and he feels like he’s about to burst, so he moves closer. There’s Connor. So close and yet so unreachable.

No “good morning”. No “how are you, detective”.

“Hey, tin can.”

Connor looks up. “I apologize. Were you speaking to me, Detective Reed? My name is Connor.”

“I, uh...yeah. Connor.”

“Yes. Did you need something?”

“I…” _Phck_. What did Gavin want to do here exactly?

_Come on, Reed. You’ll tell him and then what? You’ll hug it out and kiss in front of the sunset?_

“Here,” says Gavin, handing Connor the blue orb. “It’s uh...a gift. For your desk. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, detective.”

At the sound of the word “detective”, Gavin feels his eyes well up for a moment, but he shuts them tight, then opens them again. He’s stronger than this.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“I apologize, but it seems that I can’t remember you, though my database of case records indicate that we were partners on my last case, and that you were present at my accident.”

“Yeah, I was,” says Gavin, clenching his fists tight as he tries to stop himself from breaking. Not in front of Connor. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I see. I apologize again. Perhaps we can have lunch to reacquaint ourselves?”

“I...maybe not today. Sorry. I’m busy.”

For a moment, Gavin sees something flash in Connor’s eyes. A hint of something, and he’d almost like to hope - almost, but he knows better.

“Reed, Connor, in my office!” Fowler’s shouts fill the room. Suddenly, all eyes on the precinct were on them. Gavin knows why, but Connor doesn’t.

Gavin’s sure that Connor noticed, but he doesn’t say anything about it. All Connor says is, “I’m not sure what this is about.”

“Me neither.”

Gavin’s eyes widen as his nails dig deep into his palm, almost hurting him, but it’s nothing compared to the shit he knows he’s about to go through.

Connor stands up. “Are you all right, detective?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

They walk together towards the glass-paned door of Fowler’s office. They pass by Tina, who’s staring at them, giving Gavin a pitying look that he’s gotten used to since this whole mess started. Gavin glares back at her, and she looks away. The other officers stop looking as well, going back to what they were doing.

Inside Fowler’s office, they both sit down in front of his desk. He turns away from his terminal and looks at them both for a few moments, before finally speaking up.

“You both better be ready to work, because a new case just came in.”

And just like that, Gavin’s world falls apart once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn I'm sorry again. I really feel like this whole chapter needed a complete rewrite, but the weekly deadline is more important for this fic. When I get back to Saint Honesty and aftermath (my two other unfinished fics), I'll make sure the chapters I push out are the best I could possibly do. For now, it's really just about getting something done.
> 
> By the way, if you have anything you wanna tell me, you can always go to my tumblr @jargedcoffee - My ask box and DMs are always open. :)


	3. what the fuck, connor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Connor go out on the case, but something's up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> I don't know what to say.
> 
> I am SO SORRY. I kept promising I would update this fic every single week...uh... *checks notes* last December. You read that right. I stopped updating for almost a year. I told myself, "I won't stop posting no matter how nonsensical the plot gets!!!!!" And then I stopped posting because I felt like the plot was too nonsensical. Yep.
> 
> Hell, I've stopped posting fics almost entirely for a year, but I've been going through a lot writing-wise, and I decided to read this fic again myself. Reading the comments again, I thought, hey, why not finish it? It makes some people happy, and if I can make at least one person feel something, why not? So I started writing again and it's been such a great experience after having had writer's block for the past three months.
> 
> I won't lie. It's definitely still a mess. But I at least hope it's a mess you'll enjoy.
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at @jargedcoffee. I also have a LGBTQIA+ general writing server on Discord in case anyone's interested in joining! It's targeted for LGBTQIA+, but anyone's welcome to join as long as you're an ally and you love to write. If you wanna join, use this invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru

Gavin’s not someone who takes things lying down. It doesn’t matter who he’s talking to or how high above in ranks they are. He’ll say _screw you_ and _stick your order up your ass_ if he has to, just to get his point across. That’s why most of the time, his fights with Fowler start with shouting, continue with shouting, and end with shouting as Gavin stomps out of his office.

But this time, Gavin’s voice stays as low as the floor he’s looking down at. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with Fowler as the captain explains the new case. It doesn’t help either that Connor’s sitting like a boy scout right next to him, listening intently.

All it does is make Gavin’s chest _burn_ , but it’s not like he can explain why he doesn’t want to be partners with the fucking super-detective android again without saying something too revealing.

“This isn’t your first partnership together. You’ll see that from your databases, Connor, but things have gone well in the past and I’m not letting one accident ruin that.”

Connor says, “Understood, captain,” like this isn’t the most awkward thing in the world. Hell, it isn’t for him, but Gavin doesn’t even know what to say.

When Fowler lets them out, Gavin makes a beeline for the precinct entrance. Connor tries to talk to him on the way, but Gavin waves him off, saying, “Not now.” He exits the precinct and trudges out into the cold.

He hasn’t smoked a cigarette in a year, because Connor wouldn’t stop egging him to quit, but he buys one from the shop along with a lighter anyway. Lumbering with his head down and his hands in his pockets, he goes to his usual spot at the parking lot behind the precinct, where he stands with his back against the wall. He sets the lighter aflame on the cigarette on his lips, breathing in the slight sweetness of the smoke mixed with the cold air from the snowy parking lot.

His head lightens in an instant, washing away the dark thoughts blooming inside.

A minute or two later, Tina approaches him with caution in her steps, then sits down next to him. “Back to killing yourself, huh?” she asks.

“Geez, you’re a real piece of work,” says Gavin in between cigarette hits. By now, he’s on to his second stick.

“I know you hate it when I say this—but I really don’t give a shit—I’m sorry this is happening to you,” says Tina in a straight, somber tone. Gavin wonders how many times she rehearsed that line before coming here.

“Okay.” That’s all Gavin says, and they’re quiet for a minute or so. He moves on to his third stick after putting out the cigarette on the pocket of snow under his feet. His puffs are methodical: a plain inhale, a hit, another plain inhale, then another hit.

Time smiles with her lips but not her eyes, giving a half-hearted look of pity. “Gavin. I want you to deal with how you’re feeling and move on.”

“Yeah, just like that right?”

“Ugh, you know what I mean. Of course this is hard. But...what else are you gonna do?”

“Tell him. I wanted to fucking tell him.”

“Yeah, Hank told me about that. Pulling a gun on robo-jesus? Not your best moment.”

Gavin puts out the cigarette again, lighting his fourth cigarette in a row. By now, his head’s light as a feather, and the tension building inside him has fizzled out.

Tina continues, “I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t tell him, but seriously, do it when your head’s clear and your shit’s together.”

Gavin stands up, pocketing the rest of his cigarettes for later after he deals with Connor. Tina stands up too. She gives Gavin an uncertain pat on the back. “You talk to me if things go south. Okay?”

“I’m fine. I can handle it.”

“Sure?”

Gavin doesn’t know whether it’s him or the nicotine talking. “Yeah, mom. I’m sure.”

* * *

By the time Gavin goes back inside the precinct, Tina’s left to go on patrol. He doesn’t go to his desk right away, and he doesn’t look for Connor either, because he needs coffee first before he can deal with any of that.

The break room is empty, and he can’t deny how relieved he is to get a little bit more time alone. He takes a paper cup, holding it towards the machine.

“Detective, I-”

The familiar voice makes Gavin jump, and he drops the paper cup onto the floor. “Jesus christ,” he says, taking a breath to collect himself. He turns towards Connor. “Okay. I know you don’t remember anything, but I’ve told you a dozen times not to sneak up on me like that.”

“Oh. I apologize. Allow me to get it.”

“No. It’s fine.” Gavin bends down, but Connor’s hand gets to the cup first, and he accidentally grabs Connor’s hand.

“Shit, sorry,” says Gavin as he pulls his hand back. For a moment, he tries to bury the warm feeling of touching Connor, when he realizes something’s wrong.

Connor’s still down on the floor, with his knees bent, holding the cup, and frozen in place.

“Everything okay down there?” Gavin asks, but the android doesn’t answer. He’s still as a statue.

A small shudder moves up Gavin’s neck, knowing that Connor might be malfunctioning. Carefully, he snaps his fingers in front of Connor. Nothing changes in his face or eyes, still looking down at his hand on the cup, his LED spinning a steady yellow. “Earth to plastic prick, what the hell’s happening?” Gavin asks, snapping his fingers again. There's trepidation in his voice, and in a few more seconds he’s ready to go out and call Hank, especially when he sees Connor’s LED shifting to red.

“Hey! Snap out of it!” Instinctively, Gavin shakes Connor by the shoulder. In an instant, the android starts moving and stands back up. His LED colors a calm blue once again.

“Here you go, detective,” says Connor. Smiling slightly, he holds the cup out towards Gavin, who stands up while sighing with relief.

“Fuck. You scared me.” Gavin takes the cup, placing it into the machine and facing Connor while waiting for his coffee.

“Again, I apologize. I will avoid sneaking up on you in the future.”

“No, goddamn it, not that. I meant you going haywire for a minute.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What, your ears broken too?”

“My auditory processors are functioning properly, detective, but I don’t recall malfunctioning. Please wait while I run a system diagnostic.” Connor’s eyelids flutter for a second. Until now, it’s something Gavin isn’t used to seeing, because it reminds him of how different they are. “All systems are running at optimal condition. My apologies, but perhaps it was due to issues from my accident.”

“Great. That’s just great,” says Gavin, rolling his eyes. He gets his coffee and takes a sip, wincing at how bitter it is without sugar. “You sure you can work the case without going batshit?”

“I will continue to monitor my system for potential errors. It should be fine, detective. When you’re ready, there are a few neighbors we can speak to after going to the crime scene.”

Gavin gives a curt nod, then he starts walking back to his desk to get his things. Connor tails after him, talking about the case, the witnesses, and his preliminary theories about the investigation like he always does. Nothing’s changed. Everything’s the same. It’s still Connor.

The only difference is that this Connor never met him.

All the while, a scene replays in Gavin’s head: Connor’s LED turning red when he called him a plastic prick.

* * *

Two years after the revolution and androids still get killed pretty often in Detroit, though their murders have since been treated as hate crimes.

Gavin likes to put the murders into two groups: “easy” and “fucked up” based on how disturbing the crime scene is. The first time he said this to Connor, they were in Gavin’s car on the way to a crime scene, and the android replied with, “All murders are ‘fucked up’, detective. Morally speaking, murder itself is a…”

Gavin doesn’t remember what he said next, because he tuned it out and the only thing he thought about was how funny it was to hear Connor swear. The terms did stick, though, because ever since then, it’s the first question Gavin asks.

That’s why on the ride to the house where their android murder took place, Gavin asks, “So how bad’s the crime scene? Easy? Fucked up?”

“What do you mean?”

If anything, Gavin expected Connor’s amnesia to make him sad and angry, but he never thought he’d feel inconvenienced. Sure, the whole thing is fucked up, but having to explain every little thing annoys him in a small, petty way.

“Great…easy means simple shit like they got stabbed and bled out. Or shot in the head. Fucked up means something really fucked up like...I don’t know, someone sawed them in half while still alive or some shit like that.”

“That’s a disturbing thought.”

“Okay, whatever lecture you’ve got, you can stop-”

“The severity of the murder shouldn’t matter as much as the intention, detective. All murders are ‘fucked up’ in that sense, because morally speaking...”

Gavin tries to tune it out, rolling his eyes because he has to hear all of this again. On a car ride. How poetic. He briefly considers turning the music up so he can block it out.

“...some murders can be in self-defense, in which case…”

Nothing’s changed. Gavin knows it up in his head that Connor’s still the same, but in his chest he starts feeling a tug, a hope that maybe all of Connor is still there, somewhere. That maybe he just has to reach out and pull something out of him to make him remember.

“...for example, as a detective, I’m sure you’ve seen the aftermath of many different…”

Gavin stops tuning it out, because he now knows that _he himself_ wants to remember—wants to remember every single word Connor says, wants to hear every single lecture, every tiny laugh, everytime he calls him ‘detective’. Maybe Connor can’t remember, but Gavin would wrap it all up in a neat box and put it in a corner of his mind somewhere.

One day, he’ll open that box again, and it’ll hurt; it’ll hurt so much his chest will start pounding away while his eyes tear up. If Connor never remembers, maybe he’ll at least have that box, and he’ll keep it for both of them.

“We’re here,” Connor says.

“Yeah. I know.”

Gavin stops the car and Connor gets out. He sits for a few seconds longer, trying to unpack the heaviness in his body. “Get yourself together, dipshit,” he tells himself. He gets out of the car, seeing Connor in front of the house, waiting for him.

* * *

Gavin tells Connor the crime scene is easy as hell. Sure, the perp stabbed the android victim 30 times, with one hit between the eyes, but it’s nothing that makes Gavin question humanity (or androids) all over again. Okay, it’s that or maybe he’s just gotten a bit more cynical over the years.

They quickly settle into their usual routine, with Connor painting a picture of what happened and Gavin churning out hunches. It’s clean, professional, and utterly the same as before. Gavin mentally pats himself on the back because he’s held it together so far.

After some discussion at the scene, they speak to the neighbors. One of them says they saw a man wearing a black jacket, black pants, and sunglasses walking out of the house a few minutes after the android’s time of death. Another one gives them information about a few friends the victim has.

“Goddamn. Your first case after getting back and we’ve got a dead end,” says Gavin while taking a bite out of his burger. It’s lunchtime, and they settled on a simple, no-frills restaurant somewhere outside the neighborhood. They’re sitting beside one of the large windows filtering in the dull gray winter sunlight onto the white tables and red-cushioned metal stools. As usual, Connor doesn’t do anything other than sit in front of him and watch him eat. It used to be creepy as hell, but Gavin’s used to it now.

“Not necessarily. We can still return to the victim’s neighbors for further questioning. There’s also one more house we haven’t gone through because you insisted that you eat lunch.”

“Hey, guess what, tin can? I’m not an android. I don’t wanna die, so I gotta eat,” says Gavin, giving the hamburger in his hand a little shake for emphasis. “Sorry for the inconvenience, your highness,” before taking another bite of his burger and a sip of his milkshake.

Gavin’s expecting an answer, but it doesn’t come, and when he looks up, he sees Connor staring at him. He looks frozen again, which only gets Gavin’s heart pumping, especially since his LED is glowing yellow. Gavin stops eating, putting the burger down with apprehension and getting ready to stop Connor from malfunctioning. “Hey - hey,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Everything okay in machine land?”

“No, detective. I’m not malfunctioning.”

“Then what?”

Connor’s body stiffens a little bit. “May I ask you a question?”

“Okay?” says Gavin. He starts taking a long sip of his milkshake.

“What was our relationship like before my accident?”

Gavin instantly coughs out the milkshake in his throat. Shit. That’s the only word that Gavin hears in his head. Shit. Shit. Shit. He didn’t expect this at all. Did Connor know? What did he mean by relationship exactly? A million questions start flooding in his mind, but he manages to say, “Uh - We were…uh…why’re you asking?”

“You’ve called me tin can twice now, along with a few other derogatory names. You never refer to me as Connor. Was our relationship hostile?” Connor says it like it’s the most innocent question in the world, and Gavin almost hates him right now for making it sound so black and white.

“It’s - it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

Gavin takes a bite of his burger to buy himself time to figure out how to dance around the subject. He’s not one to stumble over his words, but his mind freezes, and no words are coming out. Connor’s looking at him, expecting an answer like it’s a fucking interrogation.

Gavin looks for the exit, trying to figure out a way to excuse himself out of the restaurant. Starting a fire sounds a little too tempting.

“I’m sorry. I can see this is a sensitive topic. Maybe-”

“No! Sensitive? It ain’t sensitive. Nothing sensitive about it.”

“Oh. It seemed that way because your heart rate has increased dramatically since the beginning of this conversation.”

“Okay - tin can, I mean - okay. It’s not complicated. We were good,” says Gavin. He promises to slap himself later for the ridiculous word vomit he’s puking out right now. He also promises to lecture Connor at some point about scanning him without his permission.

“Then why the names?”

Gavin takes a deep breath to collect himself. “It’s nothing. Just got used to calling you names. It’s a joke. You know?” He gives what he’s sure is a lopsided smile, because as Tina says, he’s a terrible liar. He suspects Connor knows he’s lying, especially with those advanced lie detection systems he has.

“I see,” says Connor.

Gavin’s not sure if he heard it right, because it sounds like Connor’s disappointed. “Something wrong?”

“No. I…” Connor’s LED spins yellow again, and his stare is boring into Gavin’s skull. A hunch tells him he’s just lit a fuse and something’s about to blow.

Finally, after a few moments that felt way too long, Connor says, “I’d like to wait in the car.”

“Uh...okay? Sure?”

“Thank you. Please finish your lunch. I will review our next steps.” Connor takes Gavin’s keys on the table, stands up, then leaves. He’s gone before Gavin can process what happened.

Gavin stares at what’s left of his burger. He’s not hungry anymore. It’s partly because Connor’s ruined his appetite, but it’s mostly because he doesn’t get what just happened. He takes one more bite out of the burger, decides he really isn’t hungry, and leaves the restaurant.

* * *

Gavin’s not a fan of car rides with Connor anymore, because the android finds something new to lecture him about every single time.

“Smoking, especially inside cars, is very dangerous for your health. I highly advise against it,” says Connor. His arms are crossed, and Gavin thinks he looks like some stupid schoolteacher threatening him with detention.

“Listen, I’m 38 fucking years old. I’ve heard all the ads since I was a kid, and guess what? I’m still doing it, so you can stop.” Just for kicks, Gavin takes a deep, deep hit off the cigarette.

Then he blows it on Connor’s face.

“Detective! Please stop smoking. You’re driving!” says Connor in the most scandalized voice, waving away the smoke from his face. “And you’re being very rude.”

“Okay, smartass. Wanna guess how many times you’ve told me to stop smoking before?”

Connor looks disarmed. He uncrosses his arms, turning to look at Gavin. “Oh. How many?”

“Christ, I don’t know. More than a hundred?” says Gavin. He taps the cigarette on the ashtray he stuck onto the dashboard.

Gavin reaches out for another cigarette from the pack.

“In that case, you’re very stubborn.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You should still stop smoking,” says Connor. Out of the blue, he grabs the cigarette Gavin’s just lit and snuffs it on the ashtray.

“Hey! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“No smoking, detective.” Connor looks straight towards the front of the car, sitting straight up like a boy scout.

Gavin can tell Mr. Health Boy thinks he’s won this round, which he probably did considering that grin on his face. He stares back at the road, seething and wanting another cigarette _really bad_ , so he tries to get another cigarette from the pack.

Unfortunately, Connor, with his super amazing reflexes, grabs the pack first. “Hey!” says Gavin.

“No smoking.”

“For fuck’s sake. It’s just a few cigarettes! Why do you care so much?” As Gavin says that, the stoplight in front of them switches to red a little too quickly, so he stops the car to a screeching halt. The car behind them stops too, but not without honking the most annoying honk Gavin’s ever heard.

“Screw you too!” Gavin shouts. This is not his day, and Connor here’s not making it any better. What would make it better though is _another cigarette_ , and at this point he’s ready to beg, but he wouldn’t dare let that on. “Give me a cigarette,” he says, holding out his hand while staring at the road and waiting for the stoplight.

There’s no response from Connor.

“What, are you ignoring me now?” Gavin says, and as he turns to look, he sees Connor staring straight ahead, holding the pack in his lap like he’s in suspended animation.

And, yes, the stupid LED on his forehead is red.

“Tin can, you’re doing the thing again. Everything okay?”

No response.

This is just a shit time for this to happen, because they’re trapped in a car far away from Jericho or the precinct. If Connor malfunctions, Gavin’s going to throw a fit because he’s doesn’t know how he’s going to help. “Tin can! Earth to tin can!” he says.

Connor’s still not budging, his face locked in this completely neutral and lifeless expression that’s a little too unnerving. Gavin needs to deal with this now.

The stoplight turns green.

Okay, he definitely needs to deal with this right fucking now, so he does the only thing he knows how to do when something’s broken.

He slaps Connor in the face.

The car behind them starts honking. Gavin couldn’t care less. All he can think about is how Connor needs to go back to normal right the fuck now. It doesn’t look like whacking him did anything, since he’s still in suspended animation but with his face awkwardly turned to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wake the fuck up,” Gavin says. He suddenly notices all the cars behind him have started honking like a horrifying orchestra who’s only goal is to up his anxiety to one hundred. His heart’s pumping while he weighs his options, but he can’t think straight.

“Uh…”

This is it. He might as well throw in the towel. He’s going to lose his boyfriend-not-boyfriend again, so he might as well just stay in this intersection forever and piss everyone off as a last _fuck you_ to this world.

“The light is green, detective. You might want to drive.”

“Jesus fucking christ what the fuck you scared the shit out of me you fucking piece of-“

“Detective! I do not appreciate being called any of those words. Just because I took your cigarettes doesn’t mean-”

A knock on the window interrupts Connor. Gavin rolls the window down, and standing outside is a black-haired woman who looks absolutely miffed. “Could I ask a small favor and have you assholes stop blocking the road?”

Gavin, totally pissed off beyond all recognition, is not having any of this, so he says, “Yeah, can I also ask you to step the fuck away from my car? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Hey, I’m not the one here who’s been blocking the road for the past minute. Get your stupid car out-“

Gavin doesn’t hear the rest, because he floors it and they speed forward. Just for good measure, he sticks his hand out the window and flips the woman off.

Now, he can breathe.

Connor’s good. It’s all good. Everything’s good. Gavin’s life is going so well.

“Detective, what seems to be the problem? That was not very polite,” says Connor.

“No, dipshit. What’s the problem with _you_?” Gavin emphasizes the last word by prodding Connor’s shoulder with a finger. Hard.

“I’m sorry?”

“You shutdown for like three fucking minutes! Please, for the love of god, tell me you remember giving me a heart attack.” Gavin eyes Connor in his peripheral vision and sees him deep in thought.

“I…don’t. I apologize. Let me run a diagnostic.” Connor’s LED goes yellow for a few seconds, and he looks almost disappointed when he’s done. “My systems are functioning…normally.”

“They’re not.”

“Yes. I’m not sure why I keep shutting down as you say.”

“We should go back to the hospital.”

“I agree, but perhaps we should finish the interviews first.”

Gavin simply grunts in response, because, yes, he suggested going to the hospital. Does he actually want to go back there and have all those memories of Connor lying in bed come back to him? No, definitely not.

But it’s what Connor needs. Gavin can’t make this about himself. He refuses to.

However, he does know what _he_ needs right now.

“Since you gave me a fucking heart attack in the middle of an intersection, I think I’ve earned a cigarette. Give me a damn stick.” Gavin holds out his hand again, and he almost regrets it because he fears the worst—that maybe the intersection ordeal is going to repeat itself. Instead, Connor gives an audible sigh, and Gavin could almost hear his android brain battling with itself.

“Okay,” Connor says, putting a cigarette in Gavin’s hand.

* * *

“You mean you really can’t remember anything?”

“My logs indicate a memory gap of about two minutes, 11 seconds, 539 milliseconds, and 349-“

“Yeah. Okay. I get it.”

They’re walking to the door of the first lead they have to interview. It’s a typical snowy suburban house with a typical suburban lawn and a typical suburban walkway to the typical suburban porch. This is the most boring neighborhood Gavin’s ever seen.

It doesn’t help that everything’s covered in so much snow that it’s not even funny.

On the way, Gavin stops Connor with a hand on his shoulder. Connor turns around to face him. “Hey…uh…what’s the last thing you remember me saying?”

“You were cursing.”

“Well, shit, thanks for being specific. Not like I swear every five seconds.”

“Which is certainly something we have to work on.”

“We?”

Connor stiffens just as Gavin asks, like he’s taken aback by what he just said too. His LED spins red for a second, which definitely kickstarts Gavin’s heart. “What’s wrong?”

“I…nothing. I’m not malfunctioning.”

“Yeah? Then what gives?”

“Let’s finish this investigation, detective,” says Connor. He smiles, a little half-heartedly, but Gavin can see something on his face. It’s something he’s only seen a few times before, during the first months they started dating: a slight tinge of blue on his cheeks and around his ears.

Connor’s blushing.

“No, no, no. You’re not getting out of this. What just happened?”

“Nothing. Please, let’s continue the investigation,” says Connor a lot more sternly than Gavin’s used to. He’s lying. Not that Connor’s ever been a good liar. They’re both terrible liars outside of an interrogation. But Connor’s also stressed out, and Gavin can see that in the way he’s walking towards the house. He’s not exactly sure why Connor’s so worked up, but his stupid little brain is piecing things together into some stupid, disgustingly hopeful theory. He can feel it—the little flutter in his chest like there’s something to look forward to.

But he’d rather not. He’d rather not get his own hopes up for something that’s only going to hurt.

“Are you coming, detective?” asks Connor.

He’s already a few steps away. Gavin follows, finally noticing how cold his own hands are. He stuffs them in his pocket and rushes towards the porch for some shelter from the cold, where Gavin taps his boots on the ground to shake off the snow.

“You’re being very loud,” says Connor

“What? I’m announcing our arrival.” Gavin laughs at his own joke.

Connor rolls his eyes—actually rolls his eyes—and Gavin never even realized he could do that. He’s never seen it happen before, but here it is. Connor rings the doorbell for a second, and they wait for someone to come out.

After a minute or two of waiting, Connor says, “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“Ring it again.”

Connor rolls his eyes again as he rings the doorbell for an obscenely long period of time, and Gavin finally asks, “Christ, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

Gavin puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder and turns him around to face him, saying, “Tin can, for god’s sakes. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Please stop asking.”

Gavin’s face absolutely heats up, and his cold hands are now on fire. “Okay, You’re being really fucking difficult right now. Just tell me what’s wrong. Does it have-“

“Detective, nothing happened back there. There is nothing to investigate. I’m not malfunctioning-“

“I didn’t say you were! But I’m a fucking detective too and you bet your ass I can figure out if something’s so _obviously_ wrong with-“

“I would like you to drop the subject.”

“I would like you to drop the subject,” says Gavin in a mocking voice.

“Oh, are we being immature now, detective? I’m sorry, but I was never a six-year-old child, so I wouldn’t have any idea about-”

Suddenly, Gavin’s had enough, and he can’t stop himself from saying, “I’m concerned! I’m just scared you’re going to malfunction again. Is that so hard to understand?“

“I’m not going to malfunction again.”

“Like hell you’re not!”

“Whoah…uh…can I…uh…help you?”

At the same time, they both turn towards the door, finding a confused man standing there. His shoulder-length, disheveled hair is covering almost half of his face, and his shirt’s full of what looks like beer stains.

“Hello. My name is Connor, and this is Detective Reed. We’re from the Detroit Police Department. Is there a Michael Langdon here?”

Connor switches back to his _professional_ voice like nothing ever happened, but Gavin’s still seething, so he stays quiet and lets Connor take the lead.

“Oh, shit man. I’m Michael, but I’m…uh…a li’l busy right now.”

He’s holding back a laugh, and Gavin already knows what’s wrong, especially with the way he’s holding himself on the door. “Dude, are you high?” Gavin asks.

“What? Fuck you, shithead. I’m not high. You’re high.”

Gavin leans back, crossing his arms. “Okay. Connor, analyze him, will you?”

And Connor, in his infinite compassion, side-eyes Gavin before looking at Michael. “There are traces of red ice on him.”

Gavin starts, “Sir, you’re under arrest-“

“Like hell I am. You got no evidence, dickwad,” Michael says. Gavin’s sure it’s supposed to sound threatening, but it’s not considering Michael’s about to burst into laughter with every word.

“Wow. A-plus name calling. Really nice,” Gavin says as he takes out his cuffs.

“You put those cuffs on me and I’ll fuck you up!”

 _Just shut up_ is what Gavin wants to say, but before he can say it, Connor shoves the man onto the ground onto his back.

“Connor! What the fuck?” Gavin doesn’t understand what just happened, but it’s still going, because when Michael tries to stand up, Connor kicks him. He rolls onto the ground on his back, moaning in pain.

“Connor!”

Shit’s going down, and Gavin’s panicking because Connor’s LED is red and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he intervenes. For a second, he’s stuck deciding, but when he sees Connor land a kick on the man’s side again, he shouts, “Connor! I said stop it!”

Connor doesn’t respond. Michael tries to stand up again but Connor pins him to the ground, straddling Michael’s torso between his legs, looking absolutely monstrous.

Shit. Okay. Even though it’s completely against Gavin’s will and even though he never thought he’d ever have to do this, he takes out his gun and aims it.

Just as Connor raises a hand, readying to punch the man’s face, Gavin cocks his gun and says, “Connor. Stop it.”

When Connor doesn’t stop, Gavin shoots.

The gunshot echoes throughout what feels like the whole neighborhood, and for a moment, Gavin prays he aimed correctly. The next thing he sees is Connor standing up, backing away from Michael, who’s now crying in a fetal position. Beside them, the bullet’s torn up the floor.

Thank fuck he didn’t accidentally shoot either of them.

Gavin holsters his gun, rushing inside and checking on Michael. He’ll live, but he’s got something worse to deal with right now. He approaches Connor, who looks like a confused puppy, his back against the wall, his hands by his side, and his eyes staring at what he just did.

“Connor, let's talk about this. Just...please...tell me what's happening.”

Connor’s LED spins a deep red. It scares the hell out of Gavin now.

“I…I believe I need to go to the hospital.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't promise when I'll finish the next chapter, but that will definitely be the last one. I hope you guys enjoyed it!


	4. all good things come to an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it y'all. After 2 years, countless unfinished WIPs, and too many self-critical writing breaks to count, I've finally finished my first multi-chapter fic. I can't be thankful enough for the people who have been reading this and showing support. I see you and I love you for it.
> 
> As always, reach out to me on @jargedcoffee on Tumblr. I also have a general LGBTQIA+ writing server on discord where we encourage other people to start writing. It's mostly targeted towards LGBTQIA+, but as long as you're an ally, you're welcome to join! We have people who write, make art, and even people who just want to read. Here's the invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru
> 
> Without further ado, HERE'S AN 11K WORD MONSTER OF A CHAPTER SMH

_”Oh hell yeah. This song’s what you call grade A art,” says Gavin as he looks from his phone to grin at Connor. They’re on Gavin’s couch, and Gavin’s picking out songs from his phone to play on his speakers._

_It was Connor’s idea, because he wanted to get to know Gavin’s music tastes._

_Connor returns the smile, but he says, ”I’m unfortunately not familiar with this song.”_

_Gavin mocks an offended look. It’s one thing to be an android. It’s another thing entirely to not be familiar with Greta van Fleet. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? These guys—-they were classic rock’s blessing to the 2010’s, and you’re telling me you’ve never heard about them?!” He nudges Connor’s shoulder, expecting sass in return, which is how Connor’s learned to deal with him when he says things like that._

_Instead, Connor just lays his head on the space where Gavin’s shoulder meets his neck. In response to the disgusting, warm fluffy feelings rising in his chest, Gavin wraps an arm around Connor’s back and smiles like a six-year-old who just got a toy helicopter that could actually fly. That’s definitely not from experience._

_”As an android, I don’t often expose myself to music. We don’t process it the same way humans do, it seems.”_

_”Yeah, well, that’s why I’m here. It’s illegal for you not to know about this band.”_

_Connor chuckles, his warm breath heating up Gavin’s collarbone. It still surprises Gavin whenever Connor does something like this. Something so human, so clearly not intended as part of his programming. “Well, it’s illegal if you’re gonna be with me, so we’re gonna fix that.”_

_They go through the entirety of Greta van Fleet’s album, and Gavin recounts the details of every single track. He used to listen to this album constantly as a teen, and he tells Connor he associates a memory with each and every song._

_Connor points to one of the tracks on Gavin’s phone. ”Oh? Tell me about this one.”_

_”This one, I was listening to this on repeat while opening Christmas presents. I think I was 17 or something. I got the stupidest shirts that year. Threw them away when I outgrew them.”_

_Another chuckle from Connor. Another puff of warm breath on Gavin’s collarbone._

_”Are you not wearing one of them right now?”_

_”Ha. Ha. Hilarious, tin can.”_

_”Your derogatory names only make me stronger.”_

_And Gavin has to laugh, because where the hell did Connor learn to say that? “Okay, you’ve been talking to Tina haven’t you?”_

_”No, that one came from Officer Miller. Please tell me about this one,” says Connor, pointing to another track._

_Gavin looks at the track name,_ You’re the One. _”Guess it’s sappy boy hours now.” Gavin taps on the track name, and a mellow guitar line starts playing through the speakers. “I don’t have a story for this one. I just listen to it when I wanna feel something.”_

_”Oh. You mean when you’re ‘vibing’?”_

_Gavin raises an eyebrow. He brings a hand towards Connor’s head, stroking his hair. “I got big news. You’re no longer allowed to talk to people in the precinct,” he says, laughing ever so silently at the sound in his head of Connor saying ‘vibing’._

_He waits a few seconds for a response, but Connor stays silent, only breathing over Gavin’s neck. “Hey, something wrong?” Gavin asks, ._

_”I wish...I wish I could hear music the way you do.”_

_Okay, it really is sappy boy hours now. “Uh. What do you mean?”_

_Connor sits up and faces Gavin. “I’ve observed that humans tend to form strong emotional attachments to music, and sometimes you even develop friendships because of it.” Gavin nods, and Connor continues, “Music to androids is just a series of frequencies and sound waves. I don’t understand how it works.”_

_”It’s not...uh...’supposed’ to feel like anything. You just listen to it and immerse yourself.”_

_Connor doesn’t say anything. He just looks down on the couch, looking sad and dejected and all these things Gavin doesn’t like seeing on his face. Well, not since they’ve been together for a year, because he’d have relished seeing this before the revolution._

_This clearly means something to him, so Gavin rewinds_ You’re the One _, and plays it from the beginning. Then he stands up. “Come here,” he says, extending a hand out._

_Connor looks up, puzzled. “Where are we going?”_

_”Shut up and take my hand, tin can. I’m already embarrassing myself doing this.” Gavin earns a smile from Connor, who takes his hand and stands up. They walk to the empty space beside the coffee table in front of the couch._

_Gavin guides Connor hands, telling him to wrap it around his neck while Gavin puts his arms around Connor’s back. “You ever heard of slow dancing?”_

_”Another human activity I don’t quite understand.”_

_”Just follow my lead.”_

_Gavin searches for the beat, and he sways Connor ever so gently along along with the guitar. “It’s just like this,” he says._

_”What am I supposed to feel?”_

_”Jesus, you’re impossible. Stop thinking and just enjoy it,” says Gavin, laughing. Connor takes a breath, still looking a little confused, but he closes his eyes as the song nears its second chorus._

Darling, ain’t that a pity.

Won’t you stand yourself and show.

_”I’m not sure I feel the music,” says Connor._

_”Then keep listening.”_

_The song continues to play._

You’re the one I want.

You’re the one I need.

_Gavin asks, ”How do you feel now?”._

_”I’m not sure.”_

_Gavin’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he understands Connor’s own frustration. Sometimes he forgets Connor’s not really human, that they’re different. He can’t deny it scares him sometimes, as if Connor will always be at a distance, just too far out of reach to hold close the way Gavin wants—-the way he needs._

_In moments like this, he wants to know that no matter how different they are, they can still bridge the gap._

_So he stands just a little bit higher, closes the gap, and kisses Connor as he closes his eyes. Connor leans into it, a second or two passing by. And there it is, the feeling of Connor’s breath on his face, reminding him how alike they are as the song reaches its end._

Won’t you hold my hand and stay awhile.

_Gavin pulls back, and when he opens his eyes, Connor’s smiling. “Okay, how do you feel?” he asks._

_”Alive.”_

* * *

Gavin and Connor drop off Michael at the precinct, where they lock him up until they have time to interrogate him. Gavin doesn’t think anything’s gonna come out of it, but at least they caught a red ice user.

On the flip side, this is definitely going on Connor’s record, if their discussion with Fowler at his office is any indication.

“Connor, would you like to explain what happened here?” asks Fowler in a tone that’s much nicer than Gavin expected from him.

Connor shifts in his seat, his LED spinning yellow. Gavin’s sitting on a chair in front of Fowler too, and he could tell from a glance outside the glass walls that everyone’s looking at them.

“Connor?” Fowler asks.

Maybe this is unfair, because Fowler’s usually not this accommodating to any officer in the precinct, especially in a situation like this. Obviously, the precinct’s sweet, darling Connor’s charms have gotten him soft. Either that or there’s some guilt there for his fucked up decision of partnering them on a case.

But yes, they _may_ have been too rough with Michael. Yes, that’s definitely against the law. No, Gavin’s not having any of it.

“It’s not his fault,” says Gavin before Connor could even open his mouth, though he was about to. Gavin doesn’t want Connor to apologize, because he has nothing to apologize for since he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, so what you’re saying is,” Fowler says, reading the notes on his computer. “Michael Langdon just kicked _himself_ , stood up, kicked himself again-“

“I know what you’re doing,” Gavin interrupts, forcing his eyes not to roll to the back of his head. “Look-“

Fowler puts up a hand to keep him quiet. “No. Let me finish. He kicked himself again, and _then_ he pinned himself to the ground and started crying in pain?”

“Christ, Fowler-“

“Answer the question. He did that himself?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. No. He didn’t.”

“Then, Connor, tell me what happened.”

Gavin glances beside him and he can’t even keep his gaze there, because Connor’s looking down on the ground with the guiltiest expression on his face. Like he’s the puppy who got kicked. Is that expression even programmed? Do androids just think, _oh, now I have to look guilty_ then put on that expression?

Who the fuck thought that was a good idea? Seeing Connor like this hurt like a bitch, and Gavin would be damned if he’ll let this go on.

“I’m sorry-“

“Connor’s not-“

“Reed, can you let Connor talk?”

Gavin hunches forward, gesturing at Connor but trying not to look at him in his pitiful state. “It’s not his fault! He didn’t know what he was doing. Read his report, will you?”

“I know what’s in the report, Reed.”

Gavin doesn’t skip a beat, saying, “Memory gap of five minutes, thirty six seconds, and some shit number milliseconds!”

“It’s thirty-eight seconds, detective,” Connor says in the most bashful voice Gavin’s ever heard from him, and he could tell Connor’s only correcting out of guilt as if saying that is making him look any better and that the three seconds matter.

Of course, Gavin knows what’s going through Connor’s mind. He thinking he should’ve been in control of himself, and that it was three seconds earlier he should’ve been in control. Or better yet, _it shouldn’t have happened at all, detective._

“And he talks!” Fowler leans back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head.

“Hey, don’t talk to him like that.”

“Don’t push your luck, Reed. You’re not the one who has to deal with the investigation that’s gonna happen because of this.”

“It’s a useless investigation because he malfunctioned.”

“And you think I can just say, ‘our top of the line RK800 model malfunctioned and nearly killed a lead, but I’m keeping him in the force’?” Fowler looks at Gavin with a stare that could’ve destroyed a newer officer, but hearing what he just said lights a fuse inside Gavin.

“He’s not an ‘RK800 model’! He’s a fucking person. I’m not gonna let you talk to him like some...some appliance!”

Fowler slams both his hands on his table. “Okay, that’s it! Connor, get out.”

“Captain, I apologize. I can explain-“

“Connor, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” says Gavin as he crosses his arms, staring right at Connor. He hopes he’s sending the right message—that Connor shouldn’t feel too bad about this.

“Get out, Connor. This conversation is impossible with Reed here. I’ll call you back in.”

Connor stands up, straightens his jacket, and walks out as gracefully as he always does, except Gavin knows his heavier than usual footsteps mean he needs some reassurance. He sees Connor approach Hank outside the office. He’s in good hands now, which calms him down.

“You need to fucking manage your personal feelings. It’s getting in the way.”

“And you shouldn’t have made him my partner again in the first place. You knew. You fucking knew this would happen. And you did it anyway.”

Fowler closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, which tells Gavin he’s _actually_ not being heartless for once. “Fine. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Gavin smiles. “Glad you came through.”

“Connor’s off the case.”

“What?!” Gavin doesn’t even notice himself standing up, and, yes, that’s definitely his heart pumping out of his chest.

“What the hell do you want, Reed? You don’t want him to be your partner, and you don’t want him to _not_ be your partner.”

“You can’t just take him off the case! He’s - he’s going to...”

“Yeah? Finish your sentence.”

And so Gavin realizes that he has absolutely no idea what he wants, because this situation has been nothing but a complete mess. He didn’t even want to have Connor as a partner again. This whole thing has just been a nightmare.

But having Connor around, riding with him in his car, getting told to stop smoking—it’s like a consolation prize. It’s the only thing that’s made Gavin feel better about this whole situation.

If only because he keeps hoping, even though he doesn’t fucking want to.

“Reed,” Fowler says behind a breath. “Sit down.”

Gavin doesn’t know what else he wants to say. For once, he’s got nothing, so he sits back down.

“Now, I thought after reading the hospital’s report that everything would be back to normal,” Fowler says. He pauses, closing his eyes for a moment as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry. I thought we could put personal feelings aside. It was a mistake.”

Gavin doesn’t even know what to say. An apology. A actual honest-to-god apology coming from the high and mighty Captain Fowler.

“But if I know anything about what’s happening, all these malfunctions he’s having are because of you.”

“No. Don’t.” Gavin points a finger at Fowler. “Don’t you fucking say that.”

“You know it’s true.”

“Shut - shut up,” says Gavin, the tears building up ever so slightly behind his eyes. There’s this crazy parade of hope and guilt about being hopeful happening inside his chest—that if Connor’s really malfunctioning because of him, it’s because he remembers _something_.

And yet Connor’s stupid android brain, with all its fancy Cyberlife tech, can’t even handle a few feelings. All Gavin wants right now is to take the truth and punch it right in Connor’s face. Just rip out the fucking bandage.

But he can’t do that. Not when he’s already seen how the smallest triggers completely destroy Connor.

“You take him to the hospital. You let them figure this out,” Fowler says. Gavin’s never heard him talk like this before. It’s new, and he knows he’s royally screwed if even Fowler’s starting to take pity on him.

“Go on, Reed. Just take him to the hospital. I’ll handle the investigation.”

* * *

The ride to the hospital is quiet. Too quiet. Gavin’s not used to riding in a car with Connor without any of the insults, little fights, or sappy sweet nothings that have been seared into his memory. All they have for now is the hum of the heating and the space between them not bridged by a hand hold or a playful nudge.

But Gavin does have something he wants to say.

“Connor.”

“Yes, detective?”

His voice sounds normal, but there’s still sad guilty puppy written all over it. Is he even conscious of doing that?

“I…I wanted to…uh…say sorry.”

In his mind, Gavin’s slapping himself for doing such a shit apology, but what’s new?

“Why?”

“I’ve just been rude to you the whole day. It’s, uh…”

“Yes?”

Gavin figures out how to say, _I’ve just been so anxious about losing you again and I can’t get a hold of myself, so can you just fucking get better already?_ in much nicer words. He comes up with, “I’ve just got a lot going on in my head.”

_Great work. You’re so good with words, dickwad._

As he drives, their eyes meet, and Gavin has to look away because he can’t bear to look at the quiet sadness on Connor’s face.

“I accept your apology,” Connor says.

* * *

Fuck hospitals. Seriously.

Androids may have gotten freedom from humans, but that didn’t stop them from taking notes from humans on aggressive bureaucracy and ugly, sterile, unnecessarily bright white rooms.

The first thing that happens when Gavin and Connor arrive is for both of them to get out of the car, only to be greeted by Markus, who tells them, “Captain Fowler told me about the situation. Detective Reed, we can take it from here.”

“Oh I’ll ‘take it from here’ with you, since you clearly fucked this up the first time,” Gavin says. The last thing he needs right now for someone to keep him in a waiting room, ask him to wait, and then tell him there’s nothing he can do.

Which is exactly what happens.

Right after he says that, some android comes out with a literal gun, cocks it, and says, “Yeah, Fowler told us you’ll be coming too. Nice to see you again.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“North. I’m the one seeing you to the waiting room.”

And Gavin wants to pry that gun from her hands and just...

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants to do anymore. He looks at Connor, who immediately looks away, and Gavin doesn’t know why he does that. _Why did he fucking do that?_

“Let’s get you both inside,” Markus says.

As Gavin walks inside led by North, he mulls over the last image of Connor looking away. He can’t get it out of his head. _Why did Connor do that?_ Did Gavin say something wrong? Did he do something wrong? Did he somehow make everything worse just by existing again?

They arrive at a small waiting area outside the main hallway, where North gestures for Gavin to sit down on one of the chairs lining the wall. “You can sit down here and Markus will get back to you soon.”

The image is still in his head as he sits down, and he just wants to forget about it. “Can I smoke in here?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Gavin takes the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and North immediately says, “Gavin, you can’t fucking smoke here.” She raises her gun slightly, and Gavin’s starting to wonder if he’s met his match. That’s the first time anyone from this place has ever called him by his first name. Or cursed at him. Or threatened him.

“What gives? You’re androids. It’s not like it’s gonna hurt you.”

“Equipment safety. Go outside if you wanna smoke, but I gotta supervise you.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“Seriously? You pull a gun on Markus and you think we’re just gonna let it go?”

That’s exactly what Gavin needs right now: to find out an entire species has marked him a criminal for threatening their supreme overlord with a gun. It’s not enough he’s already the number one asshole of the human race. He earns that title for androids too. “You know what? Nevermind,” he says. He stows the cigarettes in his pocket and buries his face in his hands.

North sits down on the chair beside him. “Okay. Why don’t you rest or something? You look like you need sleep.” She says that like she actually cares.

“I’m not tired.”

“You could lie down in one of the rooms.”

“I’m not the patient here!”

“You look like you are.”

Gavin gives her a sharp look then rolls his eyes. How long has it been since he’s properly slept? He can’t even remember. That must have been before Christmas, because all he can remember is one long series of days blending into each other, and he can’t tell where one started and ended. “Can...can I just have a moment alone?”

“No.”

“Then show me the fucking restroom.”

“Yeah, like that’s not suspicious at all. But sure.”

North leads him down one of the hallways to a door with a sign that says, “Human Restroom.” Wow. Clever. He practically stumbles inside, closing the door and finding himself in a small room with a sink, a mirror above it, and a toilet on the side.

He approaches the mirror, and when he sees himself, he suddenly realizes he can’t fault Connor for looking away.

Under the light, he looks absolutely terrible. An unshaven mess of a stubble, disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes making him look like he’s actually in need of medical attention. North’s right. He’s the patient here. He’s absolutely, positively, one hundred percent in need of help.

And yet, he realizes, he’s not sad. He’s not happy either. He just doesn’t feel anything, like his tank’s just run out.

He stops looking at himself, turns on the faucet, splashes water on his face, and washes his hands—-all while thinking about how Connor couldn’t even look at him before Markus whisked him away. When he finishes, he grasps the edges of the sink and looks at himself again.

“This isn’t about you, you stupid piece of shit,” he tells his reflection. “This is about that fucking tin can.”

“You’re gonna fix this,” he says, and something in his chest starts to pull, as if there’s still something left in his tank he hasn’t felt yet.

“You’re gonna fucking fix this,” he says, and the feeling swells. The past weeks come rushing back, and his mind’s suddenly flooded with images of every single day he’s had since the beginning of all of this.

Connor falling into the ice. The crushing, writhing panic in his chest as he pulls him out and rushes him to the hospital.

_He’ll be fine._

Connor lying on the hospital bed. Gavin’s endless waiting. First for Connor to wake up. Next for him to get back to the precinct.

_He’ll be back to normal._

Connor almost killing Michael Langdon. Him turning into a monster Gavin almost couldn’t stop. That maybe he’ll never be the same android again. That maybe-

_He’ll remember._

_He’ll remember lying in bed together, arms and legs wrapped around each other’s on warm summer nights and cold winter days. He’ll remember the pet names, the sweet nothings exchanged in the rare sappy moments, the little banters and meaningless insults. He’ll remember the way he can’t call you anything other than detective even after he tried._

_He’ll remember the way he got you to stop smoking and caring about your health. He’ll remember the way he held your hands in the precinct and told you to take care of yourself because he cares about you. He’ll remember the way he watched an awful cop movie with you and asked you to choose yourself if something like this ever happens._

_He’ll remember how you made him feel alive. He’ll remember you._

The tank explodes.

Gavin’s face heats up, his eyes welling with the tears he’s owed every single day for the past few weeks. Paying his dues in suffering for being a complete asshole for most of his life. He buries his head in his hands, to stifle the uncontrollable sounds of crying coming from his throat, to hide this moment of weakness. He doesn’t know who he’s hiding from. Maybe from himself. Maybe from some god who just happens to get his kicks out of seeing all this unfold.

He stays like that for a few minutes. When he’s done, he washes his face again and looks himself in the mirror dead straight in the eyes.

“You’re gonna fix this.”

* * *

“Detective Reed,” Markus says as he sits down beside Gavin in the waiting area. He and North exchange a look, and North nods, leaving to go somewhere else. Markus continues, “They’ve begun doing tests on Connor, but I’d like to understand what’s been happening.”

“Don’t know what I could tell you. You guys are the experts on…uh…yourselves.”

“I wish I could say that too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll explain, but first, please tell me about the malfunctions that Connor has been having.” Markus leans ever so slightly towards Gavin. “I know this has been difficult, but try not to pull out your gun this time.”

Gavin laughs, and he actually means it. “Wow. You’re not such a pushover apparently.”

“I try.”

Gavin recounts the whole story from the break room to Michael’s house, telling Markus everything he thinks is relevant. Every little thing he could do to help Connor get better.

Markus just listens. Intently. Very intently. Gavin’s amazed at how good of a listener he is based on the shifts in his expressions from curiosity to deep thought without ever saying a word beyond a “Go on” or a hum. Maybe that’s why he’s robo-jesus. He gets people on his side just like that because when people talk to him, they know he’s hearing them out.

“I can see how difficult this has been for you, detective. If I may ask, how are you feeling about all of this?”

Gavin raises an eyebrow. “Fuck if I know.”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Ah, shit. I don’t know. You got anyone special to you?”

“I do. His name is Simon. You might have seen him around—a blonde haired android.”

“Well, good for you,” Gavin says in a tone dripping with sarcasm. He chides himself for being bitter about this, because he refuses to stoop to that level. “Now, just imagine that Simon guy forgetting all about you and then going terminator incarnate just by being with you. That’s how it feels.”

“Yes. That’s definitely not a good situation.”

Gavin distances himself from Markus. “Okay. Can you, uh, stop psychoanalyzing me?”

Markus lets out another sigh, and his eyes glaze with thoughtfulness. “Detective, I’m just empathizing with you. Kindness doesn’t always have malicious intent associated with it.”

“What’s your angle here?”

“There is no angle. I’m just sorry this is happening.”

“You’ve got bad news. I just know it.” Gavin takes out the pack in his pocket, looking for another cigarette.

“Connor’s already been taken off the case. You already know that you can’t be partners, at least not for a while. There’s nothing new to add.”

“Why the hell are you being so nice to me then?” says Gavin, lighting the stick and completely ignoring the judgment that passes over Markus’ face for a second. He takes a drag off the cigarette and blows it in another direction.

“You feel like these malfunctions are your fault. They’re not.”

“Then whose fault is it? He just beat up that guy because he’s…I don’t know. Batshit crazy now?”

Gavin doesn’t know what’s worse: never getting Connor back, or getting back a version of him that’s not only different, but also batshit crazy for the rest of his life.

“No. He did that because according to him…” Markus pauses, obviously thinking about what he’s going to say.

“Oh fuck your dramatic silences. This ain’t a speech. Just say it.”

“His systems were overwhelmed with a directive to protect you, and he doesn’t understand why.”

That sparks a flutter in Gavin’s chest, the familiar feeling of hope, which he definitely does not want to be feeling right now when he can’t even talk to Connor. But he can’t resist. He needs to know. “So…what you’re saying is…he did it because he remembers me.”

“No. That’s the problem. He’s receiving directives that aren’t rooted in memories, so when he tries to understand the context, his system throws errors and he gets overwhelmed.”

“So, maybe I suggested this once or twice, but maybe, just maybe, we could tell him and then we’ll be good to go.”

Markus speaks ever so carefully, like he knows he’s about to say something Gavin’s not going to like. “We could, but we’d like to run more tests to make sure he’s stable before we try that.”

“Bullshit!”

“No guns, detective.”

“Fuck you. You’re telling me there’s an obvious solution here but you don’t want to do it!”

“We just want to make sure he won’t be overwhelmed. Receiving too many errors at once could shut down his system and cause more damage. Do you want that?”

“No. I—fuck. I just. I just want things to go back to normal. Is that so fucking hard?”

“My suggestion is to finish your case and come back here. We’ll finish the tests by then, and then we can try explaining it to him. In a safe, controlled environment.”

Gavin lets out a sigh. He guesses that’s a good enough deal. At least they’re finally going to try his solution. At least he could look forward to something concrete instead of this hope bullshit.

“Okay. I’ll be back. Tell him I’m taking over the case and the interrogation.”

Markus nods, and Gavin walks out the building, flicking the cigarette outside onto the snow.

* * *

When Gavin arrives at the precinct and walks through the door, Tina doesn’t waste any time dragging him back outside into the parking lot. She doesn’t even give any warning other than, “You’re coming with me.”

At the parking lot, the first thing Gavin says is, “Jesus, Tina. Nice to see you again, I guess?”

“You didn’t even bother to tell me, ‘Hey, Tina, my android boyfriend, who also happens to be your good friend, went ballistic and almost killed someone so I’m taking him to the hospital’?”

Tina cares. Maybe a little too much. Gavin knows that, of course, but sometimes she can be a too intense about the way she cares. “Does it help if I say I was gonna tell you?” says Gavin. They’re already outside anyway, so he takes out his pack of cigarettes and begins to light one.

“Gavin.” Tina crosses her arms, holding an expectant look on her face.

“Okay, it’s not a big deal-“

“What do you mean it’s not-“

“He’ll be fine. The androids have a plan.”

Tina opens her mouth, meaning to say something else, but she pauses, changes her tune, and asks what the plan is.

“We’re gonna—-wait for it—-,“ says Gavin. He mocks a small rainbow in front of his face with his hands, the cigarette smoke following along, as he continues, “We’re gonna tell him.”

“What? Is that safe?”

Taking a puff from his cigarette, Gavin nods, then blows the smoke upwards. “Hell yeah. They’re just running tests. I’ll come back after they finish, so I’m gonna work the case in the meantime.”

“Huh. Okay? Can I be there?”

Cigarette in his mouth, Gavin says, “Don’t see why not.” He inhales some of the smoke and blows it out. “I’m guessing Hank’s coming to the party too.”

“He’s already there. You didn’t see him?”

“I don’t know. Must’ve come after I left.”

Finally, Tina musters a half-smile, putting a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “I hope it works out, but I guess we’ll see.” She takes her leave and walks away, past Gavin, who finishes the last bit of the stick.

“Gavin,” says Tina, looking back. “I really hope it works out, but I’ll be there no matter what.”

While Gavin appreciates the thought, he tries to ignore the momentary blip in his chest. He hasn’t even considered that possibility, because the excitement and hope for things finally going back to normal kind of overshadowed the whole “no hoping” schtick he had going.

He waves her away, saying, “Yeah, thanks, but save it for later.”

* * *

Gavin comes back inside the precinct, where he talks to the officers to let Michael out for the interrogation. On a detour to the break room, he makes himself a cup of the precinct’s trademarked shit coffee, lacing it with enough sugar to poison a lesser being. He downs it all in one go, then he makes another one and chugs it even faster.

In the interrogation room, Michael’s already sitting down, looking desperate as he stares down at the table. There’s an unmistakeable tremble in his hands as he clasps them on the table. Gavin’s barely taken his seat and gotten a word in before Michael practically explodes into a confession.

“Man, I swear, I ain’t do nothing bad. I ain’t killed no one, ain’t stolen anything, or whatever. I just bought red ice and that’s it.”

“O...kay. Look, buddy, we’re looking for information about another case,” says Gavin.

“I don’t know shit. Why you asking me? I-I promise I don’t know anything about any case.” Gavin can tell Michael’s about to burst into tears and have a full on panic attack. After years and years of being in the business of interrogation, Gavin knows this is one of the easy ones. Michael’s going to cooperate with anything they ask him to do. That’s what he predicts at least.

He already knows how to deal with someone like this. Play the good cop. Pretend he were on his side. “Michael, I need you to calm down. Can you calm down for me?”

“I’m...I’m just scared. I didn’t do anything. I was just at home.”

And this is veering dangerously close to _I’m going to sue this police department_ territory. Gavin first tries to deflect, but he can’t offer anything either since he doesn’t know whether Michael knows anything useful. But maybe he doesn’t need to offer anything, “Look, this isn’t a good look for you. I’m just looking for answers, then you won’t have to deal with me anymore,” he says.

“No—no. You went to my house and started beating me up. I’ll sue. That’s right. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll sue your asses.” Michael says it while nodding to himself and gaining a little more confidence.

Gavin would be scared, except he isn’t, because he has a backup plan. “You gotta think about this, Michael. Who’s the jury gonna believe? A _red icer_ under the influence who threatened a police officer after resisting arrest, or one of the best android detectives in the police department?”

Judging by the horrified look on Michael’s face, Gavin won. “I—no. I-“

“Also just gonna throw it out there—red ice is the most illegal drug in the United States too. Just saying,” Gavin adds.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck me,” Michael says.

“Just help me out here, Michael.”

“What—-what do you need?”

Gavin opens up the case file in front of him, flipping to the photos of the murdered android. He shows it to Michael and asks him if he knows the android. There’s a blip of excitement in his chest when Michael says yes.

“Okay. Obviously, the android’s dead. I need a lead. Did he have enemies?”

“Uh...”

Michael’s already scared to death. Unfortunately, Gavin’s only a detective, so he can’t immediately make a bargain to get Michael to talk, but he knows how to be careful with his words. All he needs is to scare him. “Michael, you need to talk. You’ll be in a much better position after you do,” he says.

“Shit! Damn it.” Tears begin to well up behind Michael’s eyes, and Gavin knows he’s almost cracked this.

“You want prison time? You really wanna be trapped in there for years? Get a record? Lose everything you’ve got?” Gavin hopes he’s said enough, but when Michael doesn’t talk, he rubs it in further, “Come on. It’s your future we’re talking about. You really think you can handle prison? Just to keep quiet on some—“

“All right, all right.”

Gavin keeps himself from smiling. This is always the best moment in interrogations, but he’s always a little sad he can’t actually celebrate it.

“This android. I think he was a red ice runner for this guy I used to know. I...shit. I’m not sure he’s actually a dealer, but I was always suspicious.”

“Tell me about him.”

Michael tells him about Dave Roberts. For once, Gavin doesn’t curse his luck, because Michael’s given him a big lead and he knows exactly where his home address is. He writes it out and hands it to Gavin. If anything, Gavin’s conscience is alleviated if only because Michael doesn’t seem to care much about this acquaintance. “Cool,” Gavin says, memorizing the address in his head.

“I...I can go now?”

“You heard what I said, right?”

“What?”

“You’ll be in a much better position after you talk. Don’t you feel better right now?”

“What?”

“Michael, I didn’t promise you anything. Who said you could go? Huge thanks for the info though.” Gavin says with a sarcastic smile as the other officers arrive through the door. In the hallway, he could still hear Michael’s resistant shouting. “You lying pieces of shit!”

“I didn’t lie!” Gavin shouts back.

* * *

A safety measure Connor insisted on with Gavin about doing stakeouts and suspect visits alone is to let someone else in the force know where he’s going. It’s the logical thing to do, even if Gavin didn’t like it at first. He tells Tina in person and messages Hank the exact address where he’s going.

He doesn’t have a warrant yet, and he’s not even sure this guy’s actually a drug dealer. He’ll have to coax it out of him.

It’s about a thirty-minute drive to some random suburban neighborhood that doesn’t look like a place a drug dealer would hide, but that’s the genius of it, Gavin supposes. Every neighborhood has its dark secrets.

As he drives up a little ways from the house, he feels the same thrumming in his chest whenever he’s about to crack the case. A mix of both excitement and fear, though he’s learned to deal with the latter. He takes a deep breath before exiting the car, puts on his jacket, and walks up to the nondescript house. There’s a porch, a door, and a large window to the side. Completely unremarkable.

All he can think about now is how he can go back to the hospital after this. They should be done with the tests.

When he arrives at the door, he rings the doorbell, waiting for a few seconds.

_Five._

He’ll finally get to tell Connor.

_Four._

Footsteps start tapping around in the house.

_Three._

He doesn’t know how admitting the truth with Connor is going to go.

_Two._

The doorknob turns.

_One._

Connor will be fine.

When the door opens, Gavin immediately recognizes the man’s face. It’s him.

The perp they chased through the ice.

“Shit!” Gavin shouts. He pulls out his gun. Dave runs inside, smashing the door in his face. The lock clicks, so Gavin runs down the porch, shoots the large window, and takes off his jacket. He wraps his hands in the jacket and uses it as cover for his hands from the raised glass shards as he jumps inside.

He’s in the living room. It’s quiet inside, but he keeps caution by aiming the gun forward as he walks. There’s only a couch and a television here, but he sees an open doorway behind the couch to another room he assumes is the kitchen. He moves closer to it, ever so quietly. Then, he looks over through the doorway.

He barely has time to register a fireplace in front of a dinner table when a shot rings out. “Fuck you!” he shouts, running for cover behind the couch where he crouches. There’s a searing pain on his right side and blood on it when he looks down, but it’s not deep. He’ll live.

Another shot. This time it hits a vase nearby, shattering to pieces onto the floor.

He looks beyond the couch. Just as he sees Dave look out the table, Gavin shoots.

“Shit!” Dave shouts. There’s clattering on the floor in the kitchen, which means this is Gavin’s chance to go in. He runs towards the doorway, behind the table where Dave is. Suddenly, something hard and heavy hits him on his lower ribs, and he crashes to the ground, his gun clattering to the floor just slightly out of reach.

“You fucking shithead just can’t stop running after me,” Dave says, standing over him with a bat. Gavin tries to get up, but Dave kicks him on the side, towards the table where he hits his head on one of the legs.

Dave runs towards the gun, picking it up and aiming it as he stands to his full height. One hand with a bat. Another with a gun. Behind him is a window illuminating his strong build and black hair.

“I didn’t get to finish you off, but I’m glad I got to ice your partner,” he says.

This guy’s stupidly annoying. If Gavin’s right, he’s about to give a monologue.

Dave opens his mouth, but he never gets to talk, because the window behind him shatters. Gavin barely processes the figure jumping in along with the shattered glass.

It’s fucking Connor.

He shoves Dave forward to the ground on his stomach. Dave’s hands lose both the gun and the bat. They fall to the floor beside him. Dave rolls over. Connor tries to get on top of him, but Dave pushes him off to the side, getting up as Connor crashes into the fireplace.

Gavin crawls towards his gun, rolling back around and aiming it, but Connor’s already gotten up. He and Dave are locked in a fistfight, throwing punches at each other. There’s too much movement for Gavin to aim correctly, so he gets up just as Dave pins Connor to the fireplace mantle, reaches down towards Connor’s stomach, and pulls something out before running to another room.

Connor falls to the ground.

Gavin runs towards him, “Shit! Connor, Connor!” he says, tapping Connor’s shoulder, but he’s never seen that look on his face. “Connor!” he shouts again.

Connor’s voice is airy, filled with static as he says, “My reg-eg-ulator. Ga-a-a-vin.” And the shock of hearing Connor’s robotic, stuttering voice starts the heaviest pounding in Gavin’s chest he’s ever felt.

He springs into action, running towards the other room to find Dave. _Not again, not again, not again._

They were so close. So close to wrapping this up. He finds himself standing in a hallway with doors on both sides, his legs trembling, pressured to move as quickly as possible.

He moves beside the first door, readying himself before swiftly turning and aiming inside. Dave’s not there.

He walks, quietly, onto the next door, his heart pumping. His heartbeat smashes against his temples, and his vision shakes from the panic.

He prepares himself, but as he turns Dave pushes him onto the hallway. He smashes into the opposite wall, then Dave pins him there by the neck using one of his hands. His other hand swipes away Gavin’s gun, and it falls to the floor. “I’m not dying here you piece of shit. You and your partner aren’t leaving this goddamn house.”

Gavin’s trying to breathe, and the suffocation along with his pumping heart narrows his thoughts. He does the only thing he can. He angles himself, and swiftly brings his knee up, hitting Dave right in his crotch. “Fuck!” he shouts, falling backwards to the floor. Gavin picks up his gun.

And he shoots.

It hits Dave right in the chest. He falls to the ground, lying down facing the ceiling.

Gavin immediately searches Dave’s pockets and finally finds the regulator. He rushes back to the kitchen, in front of the fireplace, where Connor’s lying down, facing the ceiling.

And Gavin doesn’t want to even think about his closed eyes or his expressionless face.

Or the unlit LED on his temple.

He rushes over, crouching down beside Connor’s stomach now stained in copious amounts of blue blood. “Shit, how do I do this? Shit. Shit.” He lifts up Connor’s jacket and shirt. “You’re not leaving me. Not again.” He finds an empty space he’s never seen before, with white, metallic skin around it.

And he jabs the regulator in, turning it every which way until it finally locks under his shaking hand. “Connor!” he shouts.

Nothing happens.

_Not again. Not again. Not again._

“Fucking, hell. Connor. Connor!” Gavin taps Connor’s cheek, his face completely unmoving, completely unresponsive. “No, no, no. You can’t do this—-we were, we were gonna be okay.” He taps Connor’s face again, getting more desperate, more forceful.

“Wake up! Wake up—wake up,” Gavin says as if his mind knew no other words. His eyes are welling up with tears like they’ve never done before. “Wake up. Wake up!” Two drops of water fall onto the floor, and it takes a second for Gavin to realize it was his tears.

“Fuck! Connor...please. Please just open your eyes.”

Nothing happens.

“We were gonna to be okay. Fuck!” Gavin shouts, and he’s desperate, desperately wishing for words to work where nothing else can. “We were going skiing. Remember that? Yeah?” He says the words, voice shaking, maniacally smiling because he doesn’t know what else to feel. “You and I. Skiing. Just the two of us together. I was—-I was gonna propose to you. You know that? I was going to...I was...” Gavin breaks away, his wavering voice fading into nothingness. Nothing but the sound of his throat constricting with whimpering as he falls down to the floor, ready to give into the tears.

And he gives up.

“I can’t do this, Connor. Tell me you’re in there,” he says, incomprehensible to anyone but himself.

He rubs at his eyes, wiping the tears away. His eyes close with his hands in front of his face as his mind explodes into a cacophony of songs they’ve listened to, words they’ve exchanged, flashes of Connor’s face—anything to keep him from being in this moment in front of a blue, lifeless body.

_You’re the one I want._

_You’re the one I need._

Gavin will tear these pages out from the fucked up book that is his life. He’ll store them in a box and put them away. Not for himself but for both of them. One day, he’ll find it again, open the box, and take out these pages, flipping through each one. And it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt with a fire inside his bones and a snake wrapped around his heart as he falls to the ground.

_You’re the one I had._

He imagines it now, drinking coffee on a table in his apartment, alone. The happy memories will strike him deeper than any painful ones ever could.

_So come on back to me._

He opens his eyes.

There, on Connor’s head, is the slightest twinkle of red. The little spinning circle. A breath of life for an android.

“Shit,” he says as he springs up off the floor, inhaling as if it were his own breath of life.

“Connor, I’m gonna get you to the hospital. You hear that? I’m getting you safe,” Gavin says, lifting Connor up onto his shoulder. As he stands up, he catches sight of the fireplace again, stained with blue where Connor was pinned to the mantle. He turns around, looking down on the ground to steady himself. His tears fall, and his voice shakes as he talks to Connor one more time.

“We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

* * *

What happens in the hospital is a blur. When the adrenaline rush clears, all Gavin sees and hears are panicked shouts from Markus and North, a stretcher being brought in, and Hank apologizing over and over.

He follows them to the waiting area, where they ask him to stay. Markus apologizes, but Gavin doesn’t process it. He says, “Okay,” without knowing exactly what Markus said.

He falls asleep on his chair.

* * *

When he comes to, someone’s tapping on his cheek. He doesn’t understand whether it’s been 5 minutes or 3 days. “Gavin? Gavin,” says a familiar voice.

He opens his eyes, focusing through the haze. It’s Tina. “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you say anything?! I had to call a medic here for fuck’s sake.”

“Tina,” is all Gavin musters.

“Okay, Beck, how bad is it?” Tina asks. Gavin registers another woman move in front of him. She puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Reed, wake up. I need to see your wound.”

At that, Gavin feels a painful heat on his side, and he wakes up completely. Beck asks him to lift up his shirt.

The alcohol and stitches hurt like a bitch.

* * *

Markus tells him Connor’s status is critical, but they were both lucky and unlucky at the same time.

Markus wears a calm expression, but Gavin hears the full extent of his concern in his voice. “He’ll pull through, physically. We had to replace a few internal parts damaged by unregulated thirium pumping. We don’t know about his mental state.”

Gavin wants to ask so many questions. _How did he get out? Why the fuck weren’t you watching him? Who the hell messed up this time?_

But he’s too tired. He’s just too tired.

* * *

They let him visit Connor after a while. Hank confesses to Gavin it was all his fault. While he kept watch over the room, Connor asked him to get some thirium, and that must have been when he slipped out. How he found Gavin is a mystery. Android magic or instinct. Right now it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is Connor waking up. Gavin sits in front of the metal stretcher they call a bed, staring at Connor hooked up to a machine printing out logs.

He doesn’t talk. He falls asleep on his chair as the day passes.

* * *

In the morning, Tina brings him some food, and they sit together, eating. Gavin tells her the whole story with Dave, in a voice too neutral to match the emotions of everything that happened.

He’s too tired to feel any of that right now.

Tina just says, “Jesus. I should’ve been there.”

“No time to call for backup. I didn’t even know it was gonna be him. In our investigation, the prick’s name was Matthew,” says Gavin as he puts on a massive dollop of dressing on his salad.

“Huh.”

Gavin plays around with his salad, staring at Connor. The past few weeks have been rough—-that’s for sure, but at least Tina’s been there, even if he’s been such a dick about accepting help. He takes the bottle of salad dressing again and pours it over his take out container.

“Gav...you good?”

He squeezes the bottle, and it makes a squirting sound as he checks for Connor’s LED, now a relaxed shade of yellow compared to the red before. At least there’s that. It’s an improvement.

“You might wanna slow down there with your vegetable soup,” says Tina.

“What soup?” Gavin looks down at his plate and sees what he’s done. “Fuck.”

“You can have mine, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You’ve done enough. Thanks.”

“Wow,” says Tina.

Gavin turns his head to face her. She looks surprised in a genuine way. “What?” asks Gavin.

“An actual, sincere, heartfelt ‘Thanks’ from the precinct’s own ray of sunshine,” says Tina with a smile in her eyes.

“First off: shut up. Secondly, fine. You’ll never hear it from me again.” Gavin pins a little leaf of salad in his fork—-the only one he could find that isn’t soaked in a sea of dressing.

Tina chuckles. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was about to hear an apology for being a dickhead about me helping out the past few weeks.”

Gavin can’t deny he’s been a bit of an asshole every time Tina’s offered to support. It’s a wonder she hasn’t up and left and stopped talking to him after all his nonsense. He tells himself he would’ve done the same if it were Tina in his situation, fighting the warm fuzzy feelings inside making him want to smile at the thought. “Yeah...uh...,” Gavin says, trailing off because his mind’s just gone blank.

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” says Tina, laughing. “Don’t worry. I got it.”

Gavin chuckles. He looks down at the salad again, trying to find anything else he could eat.

“Say, was it too much trouble to get a burger instead?”

“Shut up and eat your vegetables.”

“Yes, mom, but next time, daddy Hank’s bringing the food.”

* * *

It’s two days at the hospital when Markus visits again. His visits are always concerning.

“Detective Reed, I’m sorry to have to ask this, but did you happen to tell Connor anything about your relationship?” Markus asks, sitting down beside Gavin. The machine’s still printing out logs. It’s all gibberish to Gavin, but he keeps wishing he could read it.

“Geez, I don’t know. He was kind of,” he says, mimicking his throat being slit, “dying.”

“I ask because we’ve noticed his systems recalibrating. He should’ve woken up by now, but there’s severe stress on his mental functions.”

At that, Gavin looks at Connor, then at Markus. “I was emotional,” he says, his chest sinking.

“I see. Detective, I’m not blaming you, and you shouldn’t take this against yourself. I’m simply explaining why he hasn’t woken up.”

Gavin leans forward, resting his head on his hand as he stares intently at Connor. “It sounds like it’s my fault though. I didn’t know he could hear. He looked dead as dead.”

“It might’ve been for the best you told him then.” There’s a slight smile on Markus’ face, almost like Connor being almost dead or in some fucked up android coma is a good thing.

“How?”

“Him finding out in a safe, controlled environment would’ve been preferable, but this is like ripping out a bandage.”

“Oh.”

* * *

“Hey, tin can. Robo-jesus says you’re could be in there, listening. If you are, I just wanted to say you gotta make it. You gotta promise me that. If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you. I’ve been trying so hard, really fuckin’ hard. There’s no way this is gonna work, not without you, so you stop being a lazy ass and get up.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes...as long as it takes.”

* * *

Gavin busies himself by talking to an unconscious Connor more and more. Markus even encourages it, and Gavin almost has to stop himself from saying they should’ve done this in the first place. Thankfully, Markus says that for him in an apology.

Apparently, even androids can make mistakes.

Somewhere in there, Connor can hear him, and Gavin feels a sense of relief knowing he could still pull through this. With his sanity intact.

On the fifth day at the hospital, Gavin lies down beside Connor on the metal bed. It’s not comfortable by any means. After all, it’s a cold, hard, metal sheet, and he wishes androids could be a bit more humane about these things.

He’s telling Connor about how they started dating.

“You just kept asking me about personal stuff. I called you a dickhead and you fuckin’ laughed,” Gavin says. He takes a swig of some shit beer Hank brought him. “I’d never heard an android laugh before, but goddamn I thought you’d malfunctioned or something.”

He takes another long sip, looking around the room. The walls were still white, still sterile, and Gavin still believes in his motto of _Fuck hospitals._ But the lights, blinding at first, give Gavin a good look of Connor’s face. Maybe that’s the consolation to all of this, a good look at Connor and his LED spinning a calm blue every single day.

He doesn’t even have to work right now, because Fowler gave him a leave without another word. The only condition was to file the report, which he did without hesitation.

“Then you brought me a can of beer. Now I know you’d just gotten it from Hank’s fridge or something, because it’s the same beer I’m drinking right now. A single can? Seriously? You should’ve gone all out.” Gavin sips his beer. It’s rough, but every sip reminds him of that day.

“After that, you had the nerve to ask me to dinner. Didn’t even tell me it was a date,” Gavin says. Then he mocks Connor’s voice, “‘It will encourage a better working relationship, detective.’”

He finishes the beer, setting it down on the table by the bed.

“You know what, though? I fell for it. I fuckin’ fell for it.”

Gavin swears he sees the slightest hint of a smile on Connor’s lips.

A few seconds later, a strange beeping sound erupts from the monitor. When Gavin looks up, the monitor’s printing out logs at an alarming rate. He’s never seen it print that fast.

And the logs change color to red. He looks at Connor, finding the same shade of red on his LED.

“Shit,” Gavin says. He stands up, making himself dizzy, then he storms out of the room. Outside the hallway, Markus and another blond-haired android are marching towards him, towards the room. Gavin feels as if they’re going to ask him to stay outside, just like in those hospital shows, but instead they say nothing as they enter.

“What’s happening?” Gavin asks, his voice getting slightly frantic as he steps back into the room.

The blond android interfaces with the monitor. “His systems are under critical levels of stress. We need to figure out why,” he says.

Gavin moves a little closer to the bed, looking at Markus. “Shit. I just told him something. What can I do?”

“That must have been the trigger. Simon, what do you think? Soft reboot?” Markus asks.

“Whoah, whoah, you’re gonna reset him?”

“No. A soft reboot is when we clean garbage data from his systems. It may alleviate the stress,” Markus says. He turns towards Gavin. “He may forget what you just told him.”

“I’ll...I’ll tell him again, I guess. Just do it.”

“Okay, but we’ll ensure his system’s stability first before you do that,” Markus says.

Gavin just nods, because what else can he do?

Simon interfaces with the monitor again, and the beeping sound stops. Connor’s LED shifts from red to yellow, but nothing else on his face or body changes. No movements, no facial expressions.

Gavin doesn’t know how long he stands there waiting for something else to happen. “Did it work?”

No one responds to him. A second passes. Then two.

And Simon suddenly shouts, his hand still on the monitor, “I’ve got something.” He doesn’t say what it is, only turning his head towards Connor. Gavin does the same.

And there, just when Gavin can’t believe it, Connor’s eyes flutter. The same flutter he’s seen so many times before. “Co...Connor?” he asks.

Connor sits up, his eyes not searching for anything else. He simply looks forward right at Gavin, his face filled with life as if nothing happened.

“Good afternoon, Detective Reed.”

* * *

Markus insists they run tests, but Connor refuses by being just as insistent he’ll be fine. The only thing he wants is to talk to Gavin, but to humor Markus, he does run a system diagnostic. Everything comes out normal.

When they leave, Gavin sits back down on the chair, his heart pumping and his hands feeling heat they haven’t felt over the past days. Connor looks down at his clasped hands, looking pensive as ever. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What? What the fuck are you apologizing for?”

“Everything.”

“Dickhead,” Gavin says, because he thinks if anyone should apologize, it’s him. For letting all this happen, for not saving him quickly enough from almost death—twice. “You wake up after all that and the first thing out of your mouth’s an apology?”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Connor says.

Gavin doesn’t know why his chest flares up. “No! Just—Connor, don’t say sorry. Don’t.” Maybe all the pent up emotions hiding behind the weariness of the past weeks have decided to rush back in all at the same time.

Connor doesn’t say anything, and behind his eyes, Gavin can see him calculating. It’s not in the same way he looks at suspects in an interrogation or the way he looks at evidence. It’s the look that screams confusion, figuring out the best thing to say to diffuse the situation, so Gavin does it for him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I should be the one apologizing. I should’ve...”

“Should have what?”

“Damn, I don’t know. I should’ve been faster. At the lake, at that fuckin’ house. I should’ve been-“

“No.”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Your apologies are inciting a lot of emotions. Mostly in disagreement,” Connor says. He looks down again at his hands, still clasped, and he’s still hunched over. Gavin’s used to seeing him sit up straight, like a goody two shoes whose parents kept correcting how they did everything. Instead, he gets this: a despondent, pensive Connor who doesn’t know what to do.

Maybe Gavin needs to start over.

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he says, standing up and walking over. He sits down at the edge of the metal bed, beside where Connor’s sitting, facing away because he can’t look at Connor while he says this. An actual confession, an actual explanation, to get everything straight.

To let out all those emotions.

“Connor, I’m just sad. I’m...sad. I’m, uh, okay—shit, I’m not good with feelings.”

So much for a heartfelt speech. A small, breathy laugh erupts from behind him, and it makes Gavin smile. He turns his face towards Connor, saying, “I’m not mad, though. This...this isn’t about me, and I won’t make it about me. This is about you, so, uh, how are you doing?”

“It seems I disagree again.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow, saying, “About which part?”

“When you said, ‘this isn’t about me’. This is about both of us.”

Gavin doesn’t want to make it about him. He refuses to, because if it’s about him, all he’ll think of is how they lost two years. Twenty-four months. 730 days. Every memory they’ve made. Every apology, every breathy laugh—things he doesn’t even want to think about.

It’s gone.

And as Gavin looks at Connor’s eyes, still staring at his hands, there’s a pulling sensation in his chest. It’s a longing to be closer and bridge the cold, unfathomable distance they’ve had since all this began, but he can’t do anything about it. This isn’t the Connor he was going to marry, and although he probably heard that, it’s not the same.

“I’m feeling...sad too. I don’t know why. I wish I knew. I don’t remember ever being this sad. Maybe I have before, but I don’t quite remember,” Connor says.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like I’m alone.”

“I’m right here.”

Connor smiles, ever so slightly. Anyone else other than Gavin wouldn’t have noticed it, so he wants to risk it, wants to push his luck. “Lie down, will you? Let’s just lie down and rest.”

Connor nods, and Gavin melts, the hardness built up by the past weeks fading away at the thought of lying down with Connor again.

It’s not comfortable, since androids happen to be pretty inhumane about their hospital beds. Either way, they lie down and face the ceiling, the length of their arms touching. It’s all the warmth Gavin could ask for right now, even if he needs more.

“Tell me about the rest of the story,” says Connor.

“Hmm? Which story?”

“You didn’t tell me how you fell for it.”

Gavin laughs, putting his other arm on his stomach. “So you heard all of that?”

“Everything.”

“Ah, I don’t know. There was just this one moment.”

“Did I do something?”

“You did everything. You practically dragged me kicking and screaming into being a friend, but at dinner, you did something that changed my mind about you.”

“Please don’t make me wait. I’d like to know now.”

“Ha. You told me a joke. I think it went something like-” Gavin pauses, putting on his mock Connor voice. “-‘Detective, when do doctors get angry?’ I told you to fuck off.”

Connor suddenly inhales, then he says, “You didn’t get to hear the joke?”

“I did. You said it anyway. You said, ‘When they run out of patients’.”

Connor laughs, a little embarrassed. “Oh. That was an awful joke. Why did that change your mind?”

Gavin says, “Because you laughed at your own joke. So fucking hard. You couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t believe it.” The image flashes back in his head: Gavin staring across the dinner table at bright eyes, hearing a giddy laugh that couldn’t have been programmed.

It was real.

“I realized you weren’t so different,” says Gavin.

“I could laugh again if you’d like.”

Gavin chuckles, looking over at Connor. They share a smile, and it dawns on Gavin how normal this moment is. How similar it is to how it was before, and he hopes. Maybe just a little bit...

“Connor, I wanna know. Why’d you go looking for me?”

“My directives.”

“What directives?”

“They’re instructions. They tell me what to do, what my priorities are, though I didn’t understand or remember why they were there.”

Gavin’s heart sinks. Maybe his luck’s really just failed him this time. Maybe there’s really no getting Connor back, but Gavin presses on and asks, “And what, uh, what did they say?”

“I needed to protect you. To be close to you. But I didn’t understand why.”

“Connor, I-“

“I guess I understand now,” Connor says. He looks up at Gavin with a smile, and, oh, how Gavin missed that smile. “I needed to make sure you were all right, so I stole your location from Hank’s phone after he said you were checking out a lead. Then...”

“You slipped out.”

Connor nods.

Gavin doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to start again.

What does a person do when they lose someone and get them back but without the meaningful moments, the long talks, the warm embraces, the gentle kisses—the remembrances of a life lived together?

“I don’t know what to say,” he says.

“Perhaps we can start again. Would you like that, detective?”

_Detective._

It’s been so long since he’s heard Connor say it that way—-with the voice that says he’s happy. The voice where he sounds the most human. The voice telling Gavin he’s alive.

And it makes Gavin feel just as alive.

This is real. This is really Connor.

“Yeah...yeah. I would,” Gavin says. He looks back at the beer can on the table by the bed, and he’s still so lost about this whole thing. He hadn’t realized how awkward this is going to be. “Uh...so, what do we do now?”

“I have an idea.”

* * *

The tail end of January isn’t the prettiest time of the year, but there are days when they get a little bit of sun lighting up the ice and snow covering everything.

Fowler gives them both a leave, saying he’ll handle the investigation and take the heat for it. After all, it was his premature decision to let Connor handle a case with Gavin. Gavin doesn’t say anything about it, but he does share a look with Connor. It’s happy, as if they know what the other one was thinking.

_Glad to have you back._

He’s just happy they don’t have to beg for time to do what Connor suggested.

Gavin steps forward, all covered up in a thick layer of winter clothes. And a turtleneck. A turtleneck he hates so much. He looks over the icy hill, and the view is nothing but sunlit snow and ice, on the ground, on the trees, on the slope.

“Fuck this turtleneck,” he says. His hands are freezing too. “This was a bad idea. Who the fuck thinks this is a fun kinda vacation?”

Connor stands beside him, putting a respectable distance between them. “I do. I’ve researched and run simulations on the optimal body—“

“Shut it. You’ve told me that before, and I’ll say it again,” Gavin says, looking at Connor, “You’re a friggin’ nerd.”

Connor beams at him. “I am indeed. My response systems indicate fondness and appreciation when you insult me as such.”

“Nerd.”

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

They get their skis and put them on. Gavin watches Connor, glancing ever so slyly, even though he knows Connor’s super-android scanners can tell what he’s doing. He can’t really believe that Connor’s here, that he survived what happened, that they both lived through it.

He glances again, taking in the image of Connor standing up and looking at the icy hills with the skis under his feet, the sun illuminating his face as he smiles. For a moment, Gavin wants to reach out, close the distance between them, between human and android, between remembering and forgetting.

“You’ve been staring for a while, detective.”

They’ll take it step by step. They’ll bridge the gap one step at a time.

“Just looking at you,” says Gavin. He wants to say something else to capture this moment, to make it a little more memorable, but his mind runs out of words.

They step towards the edge of the slope, readying their poles. Connor leans forward, but arches his butt out so far back that it looks absolutely ridiculous. Gavin laughs.

“ _That’s_ ‘optimal body posture’? Fuck that.”

“You’ll see I’m correct when I win the race.”

Gavin puts a hand above his eyes, sweeping another look at the entire view of the slope and the landscape of white trees dotting the hills beyond it. It is beautiful, somehow.

He catches sight of Connor again, seeing him smiling while looking down the slope. He sears the image of Connor’s face against the landscape in his head, memorizing every detail he could capture from a single glance.

Gavin doesn’t know where this will go, where this will lead, whether they’ll end up the same way. He’ll keep the box in his mind and its pages of memories aside for now, but Connor’s here. They’ll have more moments, more nights, more days together, and Gavin will make sure he’ll share a single page each and every day.

And he’ll keep that ring he meant to give safe and hidden, until they’re ready.

“Hey...uh...Connor.”

“What is it?”

"You're really okay with this? We lost two years. Don't feel like you have to come back to me."

"It's okay, detective." Connor preps himself, looking ahead and getting ready to launch himself down the slope.

Gavin does the same. Right now, they have time.

Right now, they’re okay.

"We can make new memories," says Connor with a smile.

Gavin smiles back. “Yeah. New memories.”

And down they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) This is my first finished multi-chapter fic, and there's such a story behind why I was able to finish this one. I'm happy you got to the end. Thank you again!
> 
> As always, reach out to me on @jargedcoffee on Tumblr. I also have a general LGBTQIA+ writing server on discord where we encourage other people to start writing. It's mostly targeted towards LGBTQIA+, but as long as you're an ally, you're welcome to join! We have people who write, make art, and even people who just want to read. Here's the invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru


	5. new beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor figures out life after the accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!
> 
> I've been thinking about this fic for a while, especially the ending, and I realized I left out a lot of the meaning I wanted to put in this fic. Sure, I wrapped up the plot, but I felt it didn't wrap up some emotional loose ends.
> 
> So I'm adding a chapter 🤷♂️ As it has been with this fic, this isn't beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> I hope this clears up some of the things I really wanted to say with this fic.
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at @jargedcoffee. I also have a LGBTQIA+ general writing server on Discord in case anyone's interested in joining! It's targeted for LGBTQIA+, but anyone's welcome to join as long as you're an ally and you love to write. If you wanna join, use this invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru

At nights, Connor sits alone on the couch in the dark of Hank’s living room. He notices himself sometimes, sitting in the same pristine, unwavering way he's always done. There’s a fondness inside of him for this place--one that refuses to fade away, not after the winter ordeal, not after losing many memories of it.

He could still infer through the gaps. There's the television in front of him, where he'd spent countless hours watching shows and movies and fascinating commercials about fascinating products. Hank thought it was for entertainment, but Connor was mostly learning. About humans, pop culture, the world. Somewhere behind him is the dining table, a few memories lying safe and still in his systems, mostly about him telling Hank to eat healthier and to stop drinking. Of course, he only ever had an average success rate of 11.32% in this endeavor based on the memories he has right now.

Sumo would be there too, his head resting on Connor's foot, sleeping with the slightest of snores. Dogs are fascinating animals, Connor thinks, and he wonders if Sumo does this to keep him company in the lonely hours of an android's evening. His remaining memories tell him Sumo does this exact same thing every night Connor stays in the living room.

But what he thinks about the most as he stares around the room are the blank spaces, the gaps, the parts of his life now lost to him. An emotion would spring up out of nowhere every now and then, telling him something used to be there. People from the precinct like Hank, Gavin, and Tina would remind him of these things.

It's the moments when he was alone that beg for answers. What did he used to do in nights like this when he didn't want to go to stasis and wanted to experience the world? On his days off when he wasn't with Gavin or Hank or anyone else?

Where were the most important parts of him no one else knew about?

One night, he experiments, thinking perhaps going to the yard would conjure an emotion and let him know he used to spend time there. He stands up from the couch and walks outside. His hand on the door is gentle, trying to relish each step, each click of the knob, and the rush of cool night's air from outside.

It's spring now. The blades of grass have sprung up again, peeking through the soil and bathing in the moonlight's silvery glow. He chooses a spot then sits down on the yard.

Nothing.

So the blank spaces remain as he goes back inside. Questions unanswered to be left for later days, or perhaps never.

* * *

Gavin stays a constant in his life. A permanent fixture Connor could rely on to appear in front of his desk without warning and force him to go somewhere. "Let's go," he'll say, sometimes ignoring Connor's protests as if whatever trip they had was already planned.

One day in the spring, they go to a calm street on the way to a shop Gavin insists they go to.

"I'm a shithead," he says.

“There are many instances where I would agree, detective, but this is not one of them.”

Gavin jabs at his arm. Connor smiles back of course, but Gavin’s already walked further ahead to the shop in front of them, opening the door.

Connor looks up at the shop’s sign, draped in pinks and blues with the sunlight peeking right behind it. _Snow Days: Gelato and Cakes_. A quick scan shows it was set up about two years ago.

He knows this place, not by memory, but by the fondness he feels. There were memories here.

“Hey, you coming? Don't have all day,” Gavin says, gesturing to the open door.

Connor follows, and as he steps inside with Gavin, he says, “Thank you. Your chivalry is always welcome.”

“Anyone ever tell you what a romantic you are?”

“It’s part of my social programming,” Connor says, sitting down at a table he feels particularly good about.

Gavin doesn’t sit down. Instead, he stares at him with a quizzical look. "Uh..."

“Yes, detective?”

“Why...uh...why’d you choose that table?”

“Oh. It is optimal for ice cream based on the temperature and sunlight levels.”

For the briefest moment, Gavin’s face falters, but he turns away and walks towards the counter the very next second. It takes Connor no more than 10 milliseconds to figure out what just happened. He brushes it off, trying to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest. He won't think about it. Not now.

He looks around the ice cream shop. Nothing too special about it, other than its vintage wooden appearance, as if one were in a cabin. A light hangs above the table, and there's a laminated note attached to it, dangling from a string. _It’s always time for ice cream at Snow Days!_ , it says.

Perhaps he’d agree, if he could actually enjoy ice cream the way humans could.

Gavin arrives with two cups of gelato and he sits down. “Surprise, tin can. Like I was saying, you dated a total shithead who forgot to bring you here for two fuckin’ months.” He holds up one of the cups, the gelato in it colored a striking blue. Of course, Connor knows what it is, but he wouldn’t ruin the absolute joy on Gavin’s face.

“Behold. Fuckin’ thirium-flavored ice cream. How’s that for a treat?”

“That is certainly fascinating. I’m glad they've begun making products directed towards androids.”

And perhaps Connor also fails to hide his lack of surprise, because Gavin immediately says, “You know, tin can, you’re too smart to enjoy surprises. You gotta dumb it down once in a while. Where's your inner child?”

“Detective, not only is it impossible to downgrade my processors, but I was also never a child. Androids don’t-“

“Okay. Thousandth time I'll tell you: It's a joke. Laugh a little.”

Connor takes a second to smile before mustering a low, “Haha.”

Gavin pauses, raising an eyebrow. “O...kay," he says, sighing. "No more laughing. Never again.” He shoves a spoon into the cup and slides it towards Connor, who takes his first bite as Gavin watches while holding his breath.

Connor's not sure what he expected.

It’s thirium. That much is certain. Except it’s...cold.

“You like it?”

“It’s very...interesting."

“Damn it.”

“It is! Regular liquid thirium has a noticeably different texture.” Connor has to stifle a smile. “You shouldn't feel bad, detective. I appreciate the gesture,” Connor says. He smiles, and ice cream drips from his mouth.

Gavin laughs as Connor rushes to wipe his chin with tissue paper. “Yeah, ice cream tends to...you know...melt.”

"Thank you for the warning."

They share a warm glance, and Gavin begins working on his own cup. They talk for a while about nothing in particular. Connor observes Gavin intently as he eats. He takes snapshots of each moment, loading, processing, and storing them into memory.

Clearly, this place was important to them once. He wants it to be important again.

A moment of silence interrupts the tail end of a conversation topic, and Gavin’s just looking around. His spoon’s left in the air, the ice cream melting and dripping into his cup.

“What’s on your mind?” Connor asks.

“Nothing. Just...you know. Nice place.”

“My past observations indicate you are unsuccessful at lying 89% of the time. Have I mentioned that before?”

“Maybe. Like once I guess.”

“I'm guessing that means a few times. You can tell me.”

Connor begins to regret asking when Gavin’s face falls again. “We used to come here all the time,” he says before shoving the spoon in his mouth, pursing his lips against it.

“Oh. Yes, I’ve concluded that.”

“How?”

Connor didn’t want to bring this up. He knows what this is about. “You asked me why I chose this table.”

“And?”

“Every now and then you would ask me similar questions, and I believe it’s because you think my memories have returned. Perhaps I used to choose this table every time we went here. Is that why you asked?”

“Yeah...” Gavin trails off, looking down at his cup and playing with the melted gelato using his spoon.

“I apologize, detective. I can’t remember. I likely never will.”

“Yeah. I know.” Gavin doesn’t look up. “It’s not your fault.”

Silence overcomes the table. Neither of them know what to say. While they've discussed this a few times in the past, no conclusions were ever reached. Thus far, they've both placated themselves with little platitudes, and they're both likely choosing which one to say now.

_We'll make new memories._

_What matters is we're still here._

_It's now and the future that counts._

None of them work anymore. Once the hopefulness faded away and reality set in, making new memories to replace the old ones felt like that metaphor Connor once learned from Hank--about the king pushing a boulder uphill. An endless lifting, never quite getting there. It's like going to this ice cream shop trying to recreate the magic of visiting for the first time. They try and try, but they never quite get there.

Even though Connor doesn't remember, he could tell it's not the same. It never will be.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be a downer," Gavin says. He takes his cup and Connor's, stacking them at the center of the table and placing the used spoons inside. He stands up, patting the table and saying, "Stay here. I'll get a few puffs in and we can go."

"Okay, detective." Connor watches him exit the store, tracking him through the transparent windows as he walks to the back alley beside the shop.

He sits there in the same pristine, unwavering way he's always done. Gavin's smoking hasn't subsided by any means, no matter how many times Connor tells him to stop. Some things won't change, perhaps, even through two lifetimes.

The cashier walks up to the table to pick up the cups. "Connor! Fancy seeing you here. Where've you been, buddy?"

Connor takes a moment to process who this man might be. He doesn't remember, but thankfully a scan shows his name. "It's nice to see you as well, Richard. I've been on vacation for a while," he says.

"Richard? You going formal on me, Connor?" says Richard with a laugh.

Connor just beams at him. He doesn't remember his nickname, but he seems like someone he'd get along with.

Richard picks up the cups, placing them on the tray he's holding. "Good on your vacation. Wish I could take time off that long. Be nice to go to a beach for a few months, eh?"

"Yes...it would. I hope you get a vacation soon."

"Nah. Wouldn't have anywhere to go either. Beaches are expensive. Hikes tire me out. I'd just sit at home."

"Oh. If it means anything, I like sitting at home." 

Richard laughs, a little louder than Connor expected, and he accidentally tips the tray a little too far. The cups fall over, but Connor catches them just in time.

"Shit. Sorry. Must be nice having android reflexes."

"It's useful sometimes," Connor says, handing him the cups.

"Yeah! Not to mention not aging, no getting fuckin' colds, and perfect memory!" Richard says with a laugh.

Connor doesn't laugh with him.

Richard continues, "Guess I'm not sure I'd want that last one though. Lots of things worth forgetting. Anyway, nice talking to you again, Connor."

"You as well," Connor says as Richard walks away, disappearing into the door behind the register.

His last words echo in Connor's mind. _Lots of things worth forgetting._ And Connor responds in his mind.

_Not when you lose the good memories too._

He stands up, perhaps too suddenly since his knees hit the table. Steadying it quickly, he walks outside, finding Gavin in the back alley with two cigarette butts on the ground, and a third stick pressed to his lips.

"Detective..."

"Hey. Thought you were sitting inside. Am I taking too long, princess?"

"Oh."

"I'm kidding, tin can."

"No. I didn't intend it that way. I only wanted to talk," Connor says as he approaches him. He leans on the wall beside Gavin, watching him blow a puff of smoke up to the sky and away from him. Of course, he doesn't have to do that, since Connor doesn't have lungs. He appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

"I've been thinking-"

"That I should stop smoking?" Gavin asks.

Connor looks at him, his words stifled behind a chuckle now. "No. Not today at least. I was thinking about earlier."

"Yeah. Let's just forget about it." Gavin takes another puff, blowing it to the side away from Connor this time. He's more than halfway through the cigarette now, but Connor could tell he's going for another one.

"No. I believe we have been resolving this matter incorrectly."

"What do you mean?"

Connor pauses, thinking of how to explain it. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Uh, I don't know. To get you to try frozen thirium that I guess you don't like?"

"Is that all?"

Gavin throws his finished stick on the ground and kills the flame with his shoe. "Just tell me what's up, tin can," he says, reaching for another one.

As he blows out the first puff, Connor says, "I think you brought me here to relive a memory."

Gavin eyes him from the side. "Not sure what you're talking about."

"I want to remember the past two years as well, detective, but perhaps we both need to accept that those memories are gone."

"They _are_ gone. I know that. I'm just...I don't know. You used to get so excited coming here. Did I ever tell you that?" Gavin takes another puff from the cigarette. Connor sees his heart rate climbing. "It's funny. I didn't used to like fuckin' ice cream, but you really liked the place. You'd bring me here, get a bite of _my_ ice cream, then tell me how bad it is for me."

"Did I really?"

"Yeah. Fuckin' hilarious in retrospect," Gavin says, chuckling a little. Connor joins him too. It is funny when he puts it that way.

They lean on the wall in silence as Gavin finishes his cigarette. Connor will tell him off about it later. For now, this is a memory. A new one. Connor does the same as he's been doing. He looks around, stares at the dumpster, at the line of sky visible from the alley, at Gavin smoking the cigarette, cataloging the memory everywhere he can.

On Gavin's last puff, Connor says, "Memories or not, I care about you, detective."

"I know, dipshit."

"You're welcome to say it back as well."

"Yeah...uh..."

"It's all right. Please don't strain yourself," Connor says, beaming at him.

Gavin throws the cigarette onto the ground and puts it out. "Okay, that's enough sappy shit for today. What do you want to do?"

Connor takes a moment to process everything that happened in the past hour. What _should_ they do? What does he _want_ to do? All he wants of course is to fix the problem, and the issue is how they're both dealing with the loss of his memories.

It's not his fault. He tells himself that once again.

 _We can make new memories_ , he told Gavin a few months ago.

"We've been approaching this the wrong way. I don't think we should be attempting to recreate memories we've already had."

"Okay?"

"What if we simply...do things we've never done before? We could own up to our promise and make legitimately new memories."

"Uh...okay," says Gavin, starting to think. He reaches inside his pocket for another cigarette. When he takes it out and puts it in front of his mouth to light it, Connor slaps it away and stomps on it with his foot. In turn, Gavin says, "Hey, what the fuck?!" as he watches, horrified.

"I've allowed four cigarettes, detective. A fifth won't do you any good," Connor says, beaming.

"Okay. You know what, dipshit? If you wanna make 'new memories', how about you tell me for once, 'Detective! How about you smoke another cigarette to heighten your mood?' That'd be 'legitimately new'."

Connor simply chuckles and walks out of the alley. Gavin follows with heavy footfalls--the kind Connor likens to a child throwing a silent tantrum. They go back inside the car, where Gavin asks him, "So what _are_ you thinking of doing?"

"I have an idea."

* * *

Of all the assumptions Connor's made about Gavin, being excited about going to a cat cafe is probably the most incorrect one he's ever had. There's no end to Gavin's rambling the entire car ride, and Connor's had to force him to look at the road at least once.

"Look, you ever actually own a cat? Goddamn hair, noise, jumping, and claws everywhere. Now, you ever have fifteen cats in a single place? You know what that's called?"

"A group of cats?"

"A fucking dumpster fire. Literal hell on earth."

Connor chuckles, partially in disbelief. Gavin loves cats. How could he be against having more cats in his immediate surroundings? "Detective, I'm fairly certain they would have the cats under control and that they're properly socialized."

"Doubt it."

Connor looks straight at him, saying, "Detective..."

It takes no more than a second after Gavin looks back at his face for him to say, "Jesus. Fine, fine."

The first useful fact Connor learned about dealing with Gavin a few months after the accident is how susceptible he is to Connor's expressions. Sometimes he takes advantage of that. Only for good reasons of course.

When they arrive at the cafe, Gavin dons his jacket as they get out of the car. Connor informs him, "It'll be warm inside, detective. You likely won't need that."

"Oh, trust me. I'm gonna need it. Say 'rest in peace' to that suit of yours."

"You are overreacting."

The cafe's entrance makes no secret of what lies inside. It's sign, emblazoned with drawings of cats, also takes the shape of a cat with its back arched. Connor looks inside the glass window, sighting at least five cats of various colors brushing against customer's legs. In the middle of the room stands a giant cat tree, surrounded by various toys and tiny beds on a carpet. Best place to start.

Gavin arrives beside him, taking a look inside the window. "Little devils in their natural habitat," he whispers.

"Detective! Please be kind to the cats. They seem friendly enough."

"That's how they get you. Charming, innocent-looking little shits until suddenly you're jungle prey. I'm telling you. I bet you five bucks you're gonna set them off."

"Like I said earlier, you are overreacting."

"Take the bet then if you're so fuckin' confident."

"Hmm...are you afraid, detective?" Connor asks, trying to confirm his suspicions.

"Wipe that grin off your face, dipshit. You really think I'm scared of a few cats? I love cats! I happen to be a grade-A cat person. I cat-sit for Tina!"

"Your cat care resume is certainly very convincing."

Connor opens the door, gesturing for Gavin to go inside with a smile. Gavin eyes him with suspicion instead. "Taking my job now?"

"If I don't open the door, you might never go in," Connor says. He beams for added measure, and in return he gets a roll of eyes. That's two for today. Maybe he can get three in the next hour. It's a toss up right now.

As they step inside, neither Gavin's measured steps nor his hands being securely in his jacket pockets escape Connor's eyes. "Are you still afraid?" he asks.

"What? Fuck no!" Gavin says.

That's all it takes. Every cat--around six by Connor's count--jumps, pounces, or runs from wherever they are towards Gavin's legs. Two of them stand up, clawing at Gavin's pants. He bends down, waving his arms around to get them to stop, and Connor marvels at Gavin's ability to predict cat behavior. Unfortunately, he seems utterly powerless to stop it.

"Ouch! Jesus! Stop it you little goddamn-motherfucking-shitty-ass-devil-furballs-"

"Detective! Language!"

"It fucking hurts! They're using their fucking claws!"

Connor knows he should be doing something about this, and fortunately, he knows exactly what to do. He laughs.

"Okay, dipshit--ouch! Mind helping out, you know, the literal love of your life?" Gavin asks as he gently pushes away one cat clawing at his leg, only to be replaced by two other cats.

"I think you can handle this. As I mentioned earlier, your cat-care resume is highly impressive."

It's mission accomplished when he sees Gavin rolling his eyes once more. Three in an hour is an excellent record.

While Gavin is trying to walk without tripping over the cats, trying to stifle one expletive after another, a waitress comes to his aid by distracting the cats with treats. Connor finds a table at a corner of the shop, hidden away from the view of the cats in the center. Gavin sits down with him.

"I'm gonna give you to the count of three to get rid of that shit-faced grin."

"And what would be the consequences if I refuse?"

"I'm going to make you eat actual shit to go with that grin."

"You always have such a way with words."

Connor gets another eye-roll, which means he's beaten his previous record. Gavin closes his eyes and sighs, palming his forehead as he looks down onto the table to steady himself.

The same waitress who helped Gavin earlier arrives at their table, apologizing profusely before telling Gavin, "On the bright side, that means they like you!"

Gavin doesn't miss a beat. He looks the waitress dead in the eyes and says, "You have three seconds to drop that menu on the table and leave me alone."

"Detective!" Connor says. He looks up at the waitress, saying, "I apologize for his behavior. He's quite stressed out right now." He eyes Gavin expectantly.

And of course, as Connor expects, Gavin sighs and takes a few moments. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry," Gavin finally says to the waitress.

In response, she simply looks at them both, confusion in her face. "Right...here's your menu!" she says. A well-practiced customer service smile plasters itself on her face, but when she leaves, it's more akin to running away. Gavin watches as she leaves. When he looks back at Connor, he's laughing, likely about to comment something Connor doesn't approve of.

So Connor interrupts him. "Detective, you scared her. You're a police officer! You should know better."

"Fine. Okay? Fine. But you owe me ten bucks."

"What? Why?"

"Because what did I tell you about the cats?"

"Specifically, you mentioned they would attack _me_. That was the bet."

"No. The bet was five bucks they'd attack. The other five bucks is for collateral damage to my pants and this jacket I look amazing in. Now, give it."

Connor almost laughs, but he stops himself and puts on his puppy dog face. One of his hands traces its way to Gavin's hands on the table as he starts. "Detective..."

"Okay, see, I know what you're doing. You're not getting out of this one."

"My alternative strategy is to threaten you into submission."

"Ha! As if you'd actually do something like that, Mr. I-like-dogs-and-the-sun-shines-out-of-my-ass."

"Hmm. Perhaps you're correct, but maybe when you're asleep I can think of a way to get back at you."

"No, no. Give me my ten bucks, you little shit. And no tricks when I'm sleeping! Bedtime is sacred time."

"Of course, detective," says Connor with a smile on his face as he plots what to do when Gavin sleeps that night. He processes for a moment, transferring ten dollars to Gavin's bank account, his eyes fluttering. "It's done."

"Did I ever tell you how weird that shaky eyelid thing you do is?"

Connor takes the menu in his hands. While reading through it, he says, "If I know you well enough, I'm certain you've told me at least fifty times over the past two years."

"Ha. I'll give you that one."

Connor finishes scanning the menu, so he tells Gavin, "My recommendation for this meal is the caesar salad. That should provide sufficiently balanced nutrition."

"Fine, but-"

"No dressing, of course."

Something flashes in Gavin's eyes, and Connor knows it's happened again--him having done something he always used to do before he lost his memories. He also knows what'll happen next: Gavin's face will fall, and he'll appear thoughtful for the briefest of moments, before trying to deny he's actually sad about Connor having lost their past two years together.

The day is full of surprises, however, because Gavin's face stays the same, then he holds the slightest of smiles on his lips.

"Don't ever change, okay?" he says.

* * *

The weeks pass by, both of them committed to finding new things to do, new experiences to share, and new memories to treasure.

They find an arcade at some point, where Gavin tells him, "You know, arcades are so stupid. They're for kids who don't fucking have lives and don't know what else to do in their free time."

"That...sounds incredibly mean-spirited, detective."

"It was me. I was that kid."

"Oh."

They play games for a bit, of course, and Gavin's day gets noticeably worse when Connor defeats him at every single one. They exit the arcade, and Gavin huffs, saying they're never coming back there because "playing with a super detective android is against the spirit of equality". However, on another day when they're not together, Connor finds him at the arcade alone with palpable frustration on his face, trying to beat Connor's recorded top score.

On a week where Connor's staying at Gavin's house, they try out paintball at an arena somewhere in Detroit. Connor makes a big deal out of it, insisting they rent the entire arena for three games just between the two of them. When Gavin disagrees, Connor insists on paying for it himself.

They don their gear at the preparation rooms above. Connor sees a window looking down at the arena and surveys it, scanning the entire location to figure out a strategy. Gavin approaches and asks him what he's doing.

"I'm determining the optimal strategy in order to achieve victory," Connor tells him, cocking his gun and shooting it at the wall to test it.

"Okay. I think you're taking this a little too seriously."

"Absolutely not, detective. My mission is simple: achieve victory at all costs...within reason."

"Tin can, it's not about winning. It's called having fun. Ever tried that before?"

"There is no fun when firearms are involved! This competition must be given the respect it deserves," says Connor, aiming the gun straight at the floor, then directly at Gavin's helmet.

Gavin grabs the tip of the gun and lowers it to the side, saying, "Okay dipshit, maybe you need to hakuna your tatas for a moment? It's just paintball."

"You're simply afraid that your arms training is below my own capabilities."

"Whoah. Okay, fucker, is that a challenge? Because all I heard was, 'bla bla bla I'm gonna lose to my dear handsome, lovable Gavin.'"

Connor simply smiles and lowers his gun. "I will allow you to say that last part for now, but perhaps it's my turn to suggest a bet then."

"Oh, you're on, tin can. Easy money for me."

"Yes, and if you lose, which you certainly will, you have to sleep on the floor for a week."

Gavin loses spectacularly.

Connor doesn't drop his smile the whole time on the way home, and Gavin's seething through the whole drive, quiet. Suspiciously quiet. When they arrive at Gavin's apartment, Connor's about to say something, but Gavin raises a finger and says, "Stop. Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna sleep on the floor, and we're not gonna talk about it."

"About your embarrassing defeat at the paintball-"

"Dipshit. I said. No. Talking."

"Okay, detective," Connor says with a bright smile.

That night, Gavin accepts his punishment without a single word, tossing and turning on the floor for a good fifteen while Connor lies on the bed. He laughs at it, silently, for a few minutes, before he can't let it go on anymore and asks Gavin to come to bed.

"You think I can't handle the floor? I'm an adult. I can handle it." says Gavin, somewhat playfully.

"Then perhaps I'll attempt an alternative strategy." Putting on a mocking voice, Connor continues, "Detective, I miss you so very much. Please come to bed."

"Fuckin'...don't ever talk like that again."

"Yes. If you would like me to stop, you should come here."

"Fine," says Gavin, as if he were the one doing Connor a favor. He climbs up, and Connor can almost hear his relief, though Gavin would never admit it.

Connor plans on going to stasis tonight, but he stops when Gavin inches closer, putting his arm around Connor's chest and placing his head on top of his shoulder. He falls asleep like that. Connor doesn't go into stasis anymore, deciding this memory is worth keeping.

* * *

On the third night in the apartment, Gavin's asleep on the bed, curled up to the side and facing the wall. When his snoring begins in earnest, Connor decides to experiment once more. He knows he doesn't always go into stasis at night, and he knows he's probably snooped around here at some point in the past. There must be something interesting he used to do here.

He goes downstairs and turns on the living room lights. It's not unlike Hank's living room, if he were honest, so it feels familiar. There's fondness for this place inside of him.

As he walks through in front of the couch, he sits down, waiting for an emotion.

Nothing.

So he stands up again, approaches the television cabinet, and sifts through the various items inside. There're some old phones here, a bunch of vintage CDs that can't really be played on a lot of devices anymore, and, surprisingly, cassette tapes. He doesn't care for them.

Then he walks around, thinking of how ridiculous it is to be acting like some sort of emotional metal detector. There's a rug here, a bunch of end tables with cookie-cutter decorations. He imagines they were just gifts from other people in the precinct, such as a cactus that had the a label on it saying, _To Prickly Prick, from T._

A display shelf bares itself to him, and he looks through the items. It's a bunch of old photos in frames, some of Gavin from when he was a child, others of his family. All haphazardly placed, like Gavin didn't really know where to put them. At the bottom, there's a row of toy cars. Connor picks up a small red one.

He feels something.

There was something to this car. He can't remember it. He can't place it. He picks up another one. It's yellow this time. He can't remember it. He picks up a blue one. He can't remember it.

He can't remember any of these even as his systems ping rapidly. Emotions, emotions, emotions, and he sifts through them. There's joy, there's sadness, there's frustration.

Why are there so many? Over toy cars?

He sits down on the floor in front of the shelf, staring at them, at a loss about why he's so attached to them. Taking the red one out again, he examines it in his hand before placing it on the floor. There it is. So much joy.

But it's meaningless. He doesn't know why that happiness is there, and soon after it's replaced by an overwhelming frustration. What mistake did he make back at the lake? Why did he fall into the ice?

How could he be so careless?

"You used to love these," a voice says from behind him. He looks back and sees Gavin with heavy eyelids, his hand wiping away the sleep from one of them.

"Oh. They are quite charming," Connor says, looking down at the red car on the floor.

Gavin sits down beside him and takes the car, ever so gently rolling it on the floor in front of them. His voice is weary and dry when he says, "You'd play with them when you thought I was asleep."

"Why?"

Gavin looks at him, his eyes heavier now, though not because of sleep as Connor sees it. "I don't know. Never asked," he says curtly, almost clipping his words. He hands Connor the red car.

Connor does the same thing--rolling it on the floor, and the joy he felt turns into calm. A feeling of safety and comfort.

He doesn't know why. He can't remember. Gavin doesn't know either.

And perhaps he'll never know.

"You okay?" Gavin asks. He puts his arm behind Connor's shoulders, stroking his hair.

"I can't find these in my memories."

"Hey, it's not your fault-"

"No. I feel...sad."

"Who wouldn't be?" says Gavin. He pulls at Connor's head, guiding him to lay it on his shoulder. "You're all right now, Connor. That's what matters, right?"

Connor pauses, examining the toy car in his hand as Gavin leans his head onto his hair. "I simply wish to remember, detective. These are the things no one can remind me of. I have realized I will never be able to recall the moments when I was alone," he says.

"You've still got us for everything else."

"I am aware."

"So what's the problem?"

"I can't identify what my systems were processing during those instances. Was I thinking about the day's events? Was I thinking about you? What if I've realized something important and now I can't remember?" he says. He puts down the car onto the floor, dejected and frustrated. There's a whole part of him missing, whole stories no one can ever tell him again--not even himself.

Gavin guides Connor to sit up, turning his head to face him with hands caressing his cheeks. "Listen. You're still you," he starts.

"But-"

"Who the fuck cares if you don't remember what made you who you are now?" Gavin says, his voice waking up. He brings down his hands onto Connor's shoulders. "The way you think, the way you look at the world, Connor, that's who you are. Doesn't matter if you don't remember the specifics. You think I remember every single thing that happened when I was a kid? No fucking way, but it doesn't matter because I know who the hell I am."

And Connor pauses, observing the lines of Gavin's face, the scar that's scrunching up from frustration. Or sadness. "But who am I then if I can't remember?"

"You're fucking Connor," Gavin starts, grasping him tighter now. "You're the android who's so goddamn smug sometimes it gets on my nerves. Little shit who likes to pull pranks on me. Tin can who's so fucking neat and organized it hurts to see."

"That's not very reassuring, detective."

"You're also the android who never calls me by my fucking name." Gavin's smiling now, but Connor doesn't know why. "But you're also the dipshit who never shuts up about keeping everyone healthy. Suck-up who never stops helping people. Good-hearted prick who just wants the best for the people he cares about even if they're shitheads."

And Connor doesn't know if it's Gavin's words or his smile, but he smiles back. There it is. The joy. The comfort. The safety.

"That's me by the way. I'm the shithead."

"That you are, Gavin."

There's a moment where shock flashes on Gavin's face, but he doesn't say anything about it. All he says is, "You're a good person, Connor. You don't deserve the fucked up shit that happened, but you said it already. We'll keep living our lives. Make new memories."

Connor looks down on the floor for a moment, processing what Gavin said, figuring out what to say to such kind words. Gavin's right, of course. They don't really have a choice in the matter.

Gavin adds, "Who cares if no one remembers one day? It happened. That's what matters."

And suddenly Connor realizes that he's not been the only one thinking about this. That perhaps these are the things Gavin's told himself over the past few months.

Fortunately, he can't disagree with a thought that's nuanced--one that's not the same platitudes they once kept telling each other.

Life is what it was, and it will be what it will be.

When he looks back up, he sees Gavin's face holding a kind expression Connor knows is only meant for him to see. So he stores it, takes a snapshot of it, copies it over to every single storage unit in his body so he'll never forget. Maybe his time with humans has been short, but behind that smile, he knows what Gavin's thinking, even if he won't say it.

_Stop being sad, dipshit. It hurts to see._

Gavin pulls him in, and they're locked in an embrace.

* * *

A few minutes later, after Gavin tells him, "Can I go back to sleep now? All this lovey-dovey sweet shit is tiring me out," they go back to bed.

Lying there, Gavin snuggles up to him, laying his head in the space between Connor's neck and shoulder and falling asleep soon after. In the quiet, all Connor hears is Gavin's breaths, and all he feels is the warmth of Gavin's body against his own.

It's the same as it's always been, Connor figures. All that's different now is he doesn't see it as a memory. It's a moment. When another unfortunate accident occurs, maybe he'll forget this one day. When Gavin turns old and frail, maybe he'll forget too.

But between Gavin's sleeping breaths, Connor thinks, perhaps, that maybe it's not about remembering.

It's about how one night, in the city of Detroit, in a faceless home amongst the millions of homes in the city, two people shared this moment. It meant the world to them. It changed them even in the smallest of ways.

One day, when time has ticked long enough and they're both gone, no one will remember.

But it happened.

And that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I'm fairly sure I won't be adding anymore to this fic. If you've made it to this ending, I'm so glad. This fic means so much to me as my first finished multi-chapter fic. It has been a complete ride writing this, and I will forever treasure this. 
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think, because I wanna know if people felt the things I've been hoping for them to feel.
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at @jargedcoffee. I also have a LGBTQIA+ general writing server on Discord in case anyone's interested in joining! It's targeted for LGBTQIA+, but anyone's welcome to join as long as you're an ally and you love to write. If you wanna join, use this invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaah. I just have to remind myself, "No matter how bad this gets or how inconsistent the plot gets, I AM GOING TO FINISH THIS." I WILL POST AN UPDATE NEXT WEEK. THAT'S HOW SERIOUS THIS IS.
> 
> EDIT: ^LOL THAT'S WHAT I SAID LAST DECEMBER. GOOD JOB ME.
> 
> Anyway, just adding this spiel here:
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at @jargedcoffee. I also have a LGBTQIA+ general writing server on Discord in case anyone's interested in joining! It's targeted for LGBTQIA+, but anyone's welcome to join as long as you're an ally and you love to write. If you wanna join, use this invite link: https://discord.gg/rZPVNru


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